All American Boy
by mighty.mouse.one
Summary: Castiel dutifully does everything his parents tell him to -until he meets Dean, a new student who is determined to help him reclaim his childhood through silliness, and teach him about free will. Cass works on Dean's self esteem. Rated for language, liberal thinking, and fun with suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Destiel. High school outcasts and jocks. Teen / Human AU.
1. Chapter 1

"You excited, Sammy?"

"Dean, I… I just want to fit in."

Dean nodded noncommittally and shouldered his backpack as they made their way across the parking lot. Sam loved school, but Dean knew that he hated having to start over so often. At least this time they would stay a while –Dean had made their father, John, promise to that.

It was October: students had already made new friends or had gathered with their old ones, and were conversing in groups by the lockers before class. As the boys made their way down the hall, students did double takes, watching the new kids pass through. The atmosphere of the room changed. Students spoke more excitedly to their friends, pretending not to stare as Sam and Dean walked by. A couple girls winked at them and Dean was given an approving nod from one of the boys wearing a football jersey.

Sam found his locker and Dean watched for a moment as his brother nervously fumbled to put his backpack and books inside.

"'Kay, Sam, I'm gonna go find my locker upstairs but I'll meet you right after school, yeah? Just call me if something comes up." Sam looked up at him and nodded solemnly. Dean threw him a grin. "No worries, kiddo, you'll be fine. Just don't act too nerdy and scare everyone off. Alright, bitch?" A small smile pulled at Sam's lips.

"Yeah, whatever, jerk."

Dean winked at him and headed off to find his locker and then his first class, English.

The morning went by fairly quickly. Teachers introduced Dean and asked if he wanted to share something about himself. He would just give everyone a cocky grin and say, "Nah, I'm good," and sit down to an ambush of whispers from students around him. He offended one jock, who had asked him if he wanted to join the football team, by responding, "A bunch of sweaty guys running around, trying to pin each other to the floor? No thanks." He even got suggestions from a couple of attractive girls about going to Homecoming that weekend, to which Dean shrugged and said he might go to the after party. He liked girls, a lot, but wasn't really into relationships much, and paying for dinner and dance tickets didn't sound that appealing when he didn't even know anyone at the school yet.

Other than that, classes were pretty uneventful. When Dean wasn't talking to his curious classmates, he paid enough attention to the teachers to see what the class had learned up to that point in the semester.

Fourth period came along and Dean slid into the only empty seat, in the front left corner of the room, with a boy to his right and a pretty girl behind him. As the history teacher prepared his notes and PowerPoint, the girl behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi there," she said sweetly. "My name's Lisa." Dean put on his best smile.

"Hey, I'm Dean. My brother Sam and I just moved here from Kansas." It was a lie. They originated from Kansas, but in the last year alone they had lived in Texas, Louisiana, Washington D.C., and Kentucky. Saying they were from Kansas was just easier to explain than the complication that was the Winchester family's true lifestyle.

"Well, Dean, if you have any questions about school or want a tour around town I'd be more than happy to help."

"That's very kind, thank you." He let his gaze linger a little longer, making her smile grow at the attention. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward.

"So. Will I see you at Homecoming this Friday?" She cutely tilted her head to the side, her chin propped on her hand, elbow on the desk. Dean hesitated once more. He already really liked this girl, but he wasn't terribly keen on large-scale school events. "Uh…" he stalled. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a bit of movement and turned toward his other neighbor for respite from the awkward situation.

"What do you think?" he asked the boy with a cocky tone in harmless tease to break the tension. "Is this thing as great as everyone says?"

The boy had been taking out his notebook and at first ignored Dean, as if he hadn't heard. Noticing the silent pause, the boy turned looked at Dean with a raised eyebrow, as if trying to figure out why on earth this new student would be talking to him. Dean found it a little off-putting.

"Pardon?" the boy asked.

"What do you think about Homecoming?"

The boy's eyebrows knotted momentarily and he shifted ever so slightly, his eyes flickering to Lisa before returning to Dean.

"I think that the Homecoming Queen would not appreciate my thoughts on the subject." The boy pursed his lips and looked down, waiting for the answer to sink in. Before Dean could reply, Lisa spoke up from behind him.

"It's fine, Castiel. I know that you're not really fond of school activities, although I still think you should try going to one. You never know, it could be a lot of fun." Castiel merely regarded her for a moment longer before pursing his lips and turning back to his desk with an air of finality to flip through his notes. Dean frowned at the boy for his coldness but relaxed when Lisa placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

"Don't worry about him, he likes to keep to himself. You'll get used to it in no time, he sort of prefers to fade into the background." Lisa whispered, "When he first arrived we all thought he was so brooding and mysterious." She rolled her eyes and winked. Dean opened his mouth to reply, but the teacher began the lesson and everyone was at attention.

After class, Lisa invited him to sit with her table group for lunch. It mostly consisted of some cheerleaders, the class officers, and a couple of well-known students on the school's award-winning newspaper's staff. The table sat adjacent to the football team's table. At first Dean was uncomfortable sitting with so many others –especially because they were obviously the students that currently held the most power in the school—but was eventually put at ease by Lisa's amazing smile. He listened with a dreamy look on his face as she talked about her work volunteering at the animal shelter and told stories about Ben, a six-year-old she often babysat and whom she absolutely adored. However, when she brought up Homecoming again (not having received a proper answer the first time), he politely declined in spite of the assertive encouragement from the rest of the table. Dean was quickly learning that Lisa was the loveliest person he had ever met; she certainly deserved someone much better than him.

After lunch was gym class, which Dean immediately decided he hated. He walked up to the teacher, a gruff older man, whom he immediately recognized from the auto shop he had applied for a job at the day before. Mr. Singer remembered him, as well, and assured Dean that he had planned to call that evening to state that Dean could start work the following Monday. With that extra bit of confidence, Dean then asked about the school's baseball team, explaining that he had played at his previous school. Well, _schools_, but he wasn't about to get into that. The teacher set aside his clipboard and went to a shed on the side of the field and got out a couple gloves and a ball. They threw it back and forth for a short while and Dean even showed off his knuckle ball and a couple curve balls.

"Congrats, Winchester, you're on the team. We could always use an extra pitcher but since you said you played center field before, I might place you there, 'cause Johnson's an idjit. Get your schedule changed ASAP so you can get out of this godforsaken Phys. Ed. class; any varsity sport will earn you the gym credit you need to graduate. Once your courses are all set, you can start practice. Spring is our official season, so we only have a few more games left for the fall half-season, but the team trains throughout the year to stay fit. Just bring whatever gear you've got and what you don't have, you can either borrow from the school or we'll order it for you off of team funds."

"That's great, Coach Singer, thanks a lot." Mr. Singer ruffled his hair and pushed him toward the main buildings as the bell rang. "Yeah, now get outta here, ya idjit. I don't wanna see you until you set it up with the office."

After that, Dean walked with a spring his step. His soon-to-be coach and employer seemed really cool, even if he was a little grumpy, and baseball and fixing cars were something Dean understood and enjoyed. At the end of the day, he went to the office to make the necessary changes to his schedule, only slightly irritated that he had new Spanish, journalism, and sports medicine time slots, meaning he would have to go through the whole "new kid in class" ordeal.

On the way home, Sam talked about making two new friends –sophomores whom he had met in his Algebra 2 and honors biology classes. Sam was only a freshman, but he was so smart, he was often put into classes in the next grade level and other honors courses. Dean figured that Sam would already start on the Advanced Placement levels by his sophomore year, and Dean couldn't be more proud of his little bro. He, on the other hand, was content with a B or C average; he was an eighteen-year-old (nineteen in January) who just wanted to get out of high school and start working full time to support Sam's dreams of going to Stanford. He figured if any of the Winchesters had a chance of actually making something of himself, it would be Sam.

A/N: I went to a "Distinguished School" on the West Coast so pardon me if my depiction of high school doesn't match your experience. I'm not trying to brag or anything –it's just that I am generally unfamiliar with what goes on in other schools, as most of my classmates were liberal and A/B-students. We didn't worry too much about who was in what social group because honestly, the jocks got decent grades and the AP Calc students did varsity sports, so the lines were blurred anyway. People were petty, of course, but more in a "if I don't like you, I won't talk to you" way and less of a "I'll pound your ass into the pavement sort of way." So, you'll see some of that 'overachiever' influence in this story, and whenever I venture outside of my knowledge of high school social hierarchy, I'm pretty much grasping at straws.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I can't remember what Missouri's accent sounds like, so the inflections are based off the mother of one of my friends, but less prominent, because Microsoft Word would have a fit otherwise. The personalities are also similar. Both women have no problem slapping you upside the head for doing something rude or stupid. This is for you, Mama M!

Dean pulled into the driveway of their rented house and the boys were immediately greeted with the smell of freshly baked pie. Next door, an African-American woman was standing on her porch, holding up a pan for the boys to see.

"Is that pie?" Dean shouted to her as they clambered out of the car. Missouri put her free hand on her hip. "Whatcha think, boy? Of course it's pie! I made it for you and your brother in celebration of your first day at school, so you better love me." She ushered them through the door and into her kitchen, where she sat them at the table and scooped two large servings onto the plates.

Dean moaned around the large forkful in his mouth as soon as it hit his tongue. "Love me some apple pie. Missouri, this tastes amazing!"

"I know that," Missouri said in a tone that meant, "Duh." She slapped the older boy upside the head. "And don't talk wit' yo' mouth full."

Sam swallowed obediently before saying with a smile, "This is delicious. Thank you, Miss Missouri." She patted him lovingly on the shoulder. "It's my pleasure. But son, don't use the 'miss'; it sounds like you're trying to spell Mississippi." She went to the sink and began drying some dishes from the rack. "So, as I'm sure y'all found out at school, Homecoming is coming up in two days. I'm not saying you should or shouldn't go, but if I find out you kids got drunk and have to drag yo' asses back home, I will most certainly tell your father when he gets back. Ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," they agreed. They had only met Missouri four days ago, when they had first started moving into their bungalow, yet she was already a huge presence in their lives as if she'd been there all along. She had come to greet the boys when she saw the moving truck out in the front, and when John had surrendered an explanation about his job, and that it required him to travel for long periods of time, Missouri had insisted that she watch the boys when he was away. It hadn't taken him long –he left two days later, and the woman invited them over for dinner. Dean was used to taking care of Sam, always had been and always would be ready to do anything for the kid, but he had to admit that he already felt happier to have Missouri as a sort of guardian-on-call, in case of emergencies.

The rest of the week passed by quickly and soon enough, it was Friday. Sam asked Dean to take him and his new friend, Kevin, to the Homecoming football game. They ate snacks and cheered for the school team, and for a moment Dean was in awe of the life of a normal teenager. No motels, no drunken father, and no constant traveling across the country –just friends and junk food and forced school spirit and being young and careless. At halftime, Lisa was crowned Homecoming Queen to the uproar of the crowd. As Dean watched her be escorted down the football field by her "date" (a little boy in a suit that was probably named Ben), he realized with a smile that he could enjoy this. Being normal. Maybe he could stay on the baseball team and even get a real girlfriend for once, and perhaps become a full time mechanic at Singer's Garage when he graduated high school. That would be nice.

After the game, Dean had a beer with a few students that had come up to him in the bleachers. He listened to them gossip and answered a few questions about himself, but when things got more personal (like what does his dad do, why his family moved), he waved it off and was content to make out with one of the pretty girls for a while. After an hour or so, the group left to get ready for the dance, encouraging Dean to come with them, but he merely smiled and shook his head, stating that he had to go find his brother.

Although Dean offered to let Kevin stay the night so he and Sam could hang out, Kevin explained that his mom wouldn't like it since they had just barely met. So after they dropped Kevin off at his house, of course Sam looked disappointed and pathetic and slouched in the seat.

"Your new friend is kinda nerdy. Guess you guys are perfect for each other."

A grunt.

"So… How come the other kid didn't show up? Did he have book club meeting or something?"

"His parents hardly ever let him do anything. They think that all the other teenagers are just a bunch of horny sinners who will rope him into making the same mistakes they do."

Dean chuckled. "Well, they're not wrong." He glanced at the younger boy in the passenger seat. "Come on, man, don't get all mopey on me. I passed up a perfectly good, horny party of sin to hang out with my little bro. Now whaddya say we play some CoD so I can kick your ass. Again. And then tomorrow we can check out the shops while everyone else is hung over."

Sam crossed his arms but let a pouty smile creep across his face. "Fine."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Long chapter. Apologies.

Castiel flipped lazily through his chemistry book, his foot tapping on the bar of his four-legged stool. Gabriel hadn't come home last night, indicating that he found someone at the bar to go home with, and leaving Castiel to open up shop the next morning. Gabriel always allowed himself to get carried away on the nights of school events –the majority of the customers at his joke and candy shop were teenagers, and they never stopped by on the mornings after dances or big games, so Gabriel preferred to shirk his responsibilities and leave Castiel to rot in the boredom of the empty business. Castiel didn't really mind, however, as he just used it as an opportunity to study in peace.

But this morning he was less than interested in the text laid before him on the counter. He had had a rough practice this morning and the coffee was doing nothing to keep him alert or to soothe his muscles. Mostly, it served as a small source of heat against the slight October chill. Still, he liked this weather, and he liked rowing. He liked watching the sun rise over the orange and red trees, setting them ablaze as he and his teammates worked their way up the river. Crew was a physically taxing sport with difficult hours, but it definitely had its perks.

Castiel set his head down on the book and groaned, his limbs dangling over the stool behind the countertop. He just wanted to finish high school already, so he wouldn't have his parents hanging on his back about his grades and college applications and sports and the other dozens of things they controlled in his life. Although, even if he did get into Harvard and moved halfway across the country, they would probably just harp on him about getting into med school and making lots of money and helping people.

A tinkling of the bell pulled Castiel from his dark and frustrated thoughts. He looked up and was instantly surprised to find the new student from his classes, Dean, entering the shop.

"Seriously, Dean? _Tricks and Treats_?"

"Come on, Sammy, this place is cool. Joke shops are kind of hard to come by these days and this one's even got candy." Castiel watched with interest as the boys wandered up and down the aisle. Upon seeing Dean in class and at lunch, Castiel figured that he was just another mindless jock who would get pulled into the popular crowd for his good looks. Sam was different –he seemed like the smart, quiet type. Castiel wondered if he would get to see another side of Dean while he was there with his younger brother.

"Hey look at this! This is now officially my favorite place ever."

"Dean, you are not getting a penis whistle."

Well that was disappointing. Castiel looked back down at his textbook, but continued to listen to the conversation.

"They only have one color. Do you think the company makes them in different colors? Because if not, that's kind of advocating for White supremacy, assuming that people only want to blow on White cocks. Maybe I want a Black one!"

Castiel was caught off guard by the comment and had to stifle his laughter. Okay, so Dean wasn't some stupid jock. Well, not completely, anyway.

"Hey, do you think if they made Black ones, they would be bigger?"

"Dean! That is totally inappropriate and racist!"

"Hardly, when I'm speaking in their favor. I don't think African Americans would find that degrading."

"You don't know that," Sam protested.

Finally, Castiel decided to make his presence known. "Last week Uriel bought our entire stock and handed them out to his teammates on the school basketball team," Castiel evenly said from the counter. "We are currently awaiting the new orders to be delivered."

"You don't say?" Dean called from behind the shelf. "I thought that guy seemed pretty cool. So were they bigger than these?"

"No. Although when he purchased them, he pointed out that they were not proportional to the White ones."

Dean laughed unabashedly and clapped his hands together. "That's hilarious."

"Everyone knows that Uriel is the funniest guy on the team."

Dean strolled from around the corner, his eyes lingering on various other items as he passed. When he finally faced Castiel, his eyebrows shot up.

"You're in my history class! Castiel, right?"

Castiel nodded, expressionless, though he was surprised that Dean remembered his name from their brief encounter –or remembered him at all, really.

"Castiel Novak. You also switched into my journalism and sports medicine classes yesterday."

"Oh, sorry if I didn't notice you."

"It is not of import. I thrive on anonymity." He calmly watched Dean as the boy frowned at the comment and stumbled to make the conversation less awkward.

"Well, I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my little brother, Sam."

Castiel nodded politely at Sam, who was watching the two boys with a confused look on his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam. My brother is Alfie Novak, I believe you two are friends."

"Right! He did mention you once, come to think of it." The Winchesters shifted uncomfortably in Castiel's silence (not that Castiel really cared), and began to inspect the candy for something to do. Finally Dean gave up and turned back to Castiel, seeming a little agitated. "So why are you working in a place like this? You don't really seem like you're here for shits and giggles."

Castiel cocked an eyebrow at his choice of words. "My cousin owns this store, along with many others, and my brother Gabriel manages it. Gabriel is ah, detained at the moment, so I am keeping an eye on it."

"Oh. Makes sense."

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting customers until after noon, since most students are…sleeping in after their big night."

"Yeah I figured the same. Sam and I didn't go to the dance or any of the parties. We just felt like staying home. How come you didn't go?

Castiel tilted his head slightly, pondering how Dean assumed that he hadn't gone to the party. Of course he hadn't; everyone in the school knew he found most school activities boring or distasteful (or both), but Dean was a mere stranger and already seemed to know this about him, just from Lisa's blasé comment days ago. He wasn't sure whether to feel warmed by Dean's attention or annoyed.

"I had crew practice at six this morning. I also have no interest in parties."

"You what at what time this morning?"

"I row for the Belleville Boys crew team, which is independent from the school, though I still get credit for my participation. Practice began at six, so I had to leave the house at five-thirty. What is difficult to understand?"

"I don't understand why someone would do that willingly," Dean joked.

Castiel smirked. He often got that sort of response; most people thought he was strange because he was a teenager willing to wake up before sunrise.

"I enjoy it. My parents gave me the option of joining a crew team or a golf team, and I chose the former. It's a pleasant sport. For two hours I am not expected to talk or make decisions."

"That doesn't sound pleasant at all."

"To you, perhaps."

"So what if you wanted to play soccer?"

"I don't."

"But what if you did? Would your parents allow it, or were those the only choices they gave you?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes. He didn't like people asking about his personal life. It was why he had closed himself off from nearly day one upon entering C. Shirley High two years ago. He and Alfie had moved to Belleville, Illinois from Pontiac, when Gabriel insisted that the boys finish high school around other, average teenagers. Castiel had been a sophomore (and Alfie an eighth grader) when his family's business went international, forcing his parents and older brothers to move to Chicago to be near an airport. Gabriel didn't want his younger brothers to have to grow up in such different circumstances, so he had invited them into his home until they finished high school.

Somehow, his new classmates had managed to find out that Castiel's family was very rich, despite his and his brothers' discretion. Students tried to become friends with him or date him, not realizing that his parents had many restrictions or that Castiel was not about that life. They just saw him as "hot" and "rich," but after giving everyone the cold shoulder, he managed to become invisible in under a month; everyone assumed that he was a boring stiff who studied all the time and was snobbish about his good looks and wealth.

"Seriously, who gives an ultimatum like crew and golf? It's just a sport, I mean, no big deal, right? People play sports for fun, so why do your parents have to be so controlling about it and ruin the whole point?" Castiel sighed.

"Are you going to buy anything?"

The younger boy tugged on his brother's sleeve. "Dean, I think we should go."

Dean continued to look at Castiel. He put his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to offend you. I just hope you get to do things because _you_ want to do it. Get what I'm saying?"

Castiel considered him for a moment. Why did he care? It wasn't his life, so he had no reason to pry. Castiel didn't want to argue, however, and simply said, "Don't worry about it."

Dean caught the hint and nodded in understanding. Castiel watched as the two boys left the shop, and exhaled the breath he didn't know he'd been holding when the door closed. He just wanted to get to college already. Get away from it all.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Not a very interesting chapter, unfortunately. More explanation than action, and it jumps around a bit, but I think it might be helpful. Next chapter will be better, I promise.

Dean was in a mood for the rest of the morning. Even as he and Sam were standing line at Starbucks for a coffee after their encounter with Castiel, he was still brooding over how aloof the dark-haired boy had been.

"He's like a robot! Have you ever met someone so cold and boring in your life? He was basically expressionless the entire time and even his voice was monotonous. God. How can anyone live like that? Lisa told me that he does nothing but study all the time. He's got no friends, he doesn't go out –what kind of life is that? But then his older brother runs a joke and candy shop? Jeez, it's like Gabriel got all the personality and left none to spare."

Sam had been frowning at him through the entire rant.

"Dean, Castiel and Alfie's parents don't _let_ them do anything. They make them take top courses and get really good grades, so that they'll get into Harvard. That's why they can't make any friends –they're usually studying. You know what everyone at school calls them because of that? The White Tigers."

Dean flinched. He didn't understand the implications of the name, but he figured that it couldn't be anything good.

"I don't…"

"It's an adaptation of the term Tiger Mom, only they're the 'Tiger Cubs,' and Caucasian.

"Tiger—?"

"It refers to how Asian kids notoriously have a strict upbringing and are forced by their parents to get straight-A's and get into top schools."

Dean gaped at him. "That's horrible."

"It's controversial," Sam corrected. "On one hand, it's active parenting and the discipline often leads to success, but it can also be harsh and have negative results on the children's self esteem."

When Dean's name was called (well, he had told them it was Batman and the barista was playing along and calling for the Dark Knight), he retrieved his coffee and absent-mindedly stared at it, thinking about what it must be like to be Castiel Novak.

"Dean," Sam pleaded. "Just, don't be too hard on him, okay? I don't know him very well either, but Alfie says that he's got a lot of pressure on him right now, since he just took his SATs and is doing his college applications, so… just, give him time."

Dean solemnly nodded his understanding. He had taken the SATs last spring –he had done fairly well (he wasn't as stupid as he looked) but they didn't matter much to him, since was probably going to skip college and go straight to work anyway. Castiel, on the other hand, probably had to get near perfect scores to even be considered for Ivy League schools.

Dean silently vowed that from then on, he would try to be friends with Castiel, no matter how distant and indifferent he seemed. Maybe the guy's social skills were just a little rusty.

It turned out to be a little more difficult than he thought. The next week at school passed by quickly but uneventfully. Dean found Castiel in his journalism and sports medicine classes, but they sat on opposite ends of the room. Not that it would make much difference anyway; they sat next to each other in history, but rarely had time to talk, since Dean didn't want to interrupt Castiel's note-taking. He knew school was really important to Castiel and didn't want to impede his efforts, so he ended up talking with Lisa instead, which he didn't mind at all.

Dean tried to find Castiel during lunch, but the guy was a ghost during break periods. He even tried to follow him from class but always lost him in the crowd. Dean soon realized that Castiel didn't even sit in the cafeteria during lunch, and surrendered to sitting at the popular kids' table. He did insist, however, on sitting with Sammy and his friends at least once a week. His friends all gave him strange looks for it, and Dean found out why shortly after introductions.

Kevin and Alfie (Castiel's half-brother, as it turned out) were nerds trying to get the hell out of dodge. Alfie was destined for Harvard like his brother, but Kevin, like Sam, wanted to go to Stanford, though not for law. He mentioned something about being a translator for the FBI. One thing for certain was that they were all headed for the top and for the coasts –they were tired of being mistreated at the small-minded school.

Garth, Charlie, Ash and Jo sat at the next table, and sometimes moved in to share lunch with the three boys. While Sam's group had the academics, the others were just plain misfits. As both groups were the outcasts of the school, they all got along fine, and were only separated by their different interests.

On that day, the entire school seemed to be shocked by Dean's visit to the other side of the cafeteria, and apparently had some sort of agreement unspoken agreement to act like it never happened. Everyone pretended Dean was just trying to do his little brother a favor in making him look cool (though that was certainly not the case), and further more that Dean had no ties to the other outcasts, which also wasn't true. Dean liked Sam's new friends, and he found it irritating that the school was dictating his actions and intentions without his say, but he didn't bother trying to change everyone's mind. He knew it would be near impossible to accomplish, and he wasn't interested in causing conflict on only his second week there.

Striking out in class and the cafeteria, Dean resorted to searching for Castiel by the lockers, but never found him in the masses. In history he once considered offering Castiel a ride home after school, but quickly realized that he had baseball practice and would be unable to do so anyway.

Dean liked his baseball team. Coach Singer immediately took a liking to him and he liked most of his teammates. C. Shirley High's baseball team was very good –but it was humbled by the fact that it was second in popularity to the football team; Dean thanked the heavens that his teammates were friendlier and much more modest than the football jocks, although there were a few that were cockily convinced that they would play for the Yankees within two years, but Coach Singer often cut them down to size.

Dean would have much preferred to sit with his team than with the other jocks during lunch, but his teammates knew there was something going between him and Lisa. They just winked and pushed him from their table, making him blush with their whistles and encouragements to go after her.

Lisa was a goddess carved out of sunlight. Beautiful and kind, she accepted everyone and was always happy; every time Dean looked at her, he was amazed that such a person existed. She was an open book and Dean liked every single page.

"Once you have printed your article and placed it in the 'Assignments' tray, you may pack up and leave. Have a nice weekend, everyone."

Dean did as his journalism teacher instructed and began shutting down his computer. He looked over the moniter at Lisa, who was doing the same across the table they shared in the media lab. They both smiled at each other like they were in love. And maybe they were, secretly. Dean wanted to be the one to always make her smile, to spend every day in her company.

She was the most perfect person he had ever met.

His smile faded and he began to pack up his notebook and pencils. He didn't deserve her; she was _perfect_ and he was…tainted. She was an apple pie life and he was a problematic, grew-up-too-soon disaster, extra dry. He wanted to be with her so badly, to have a taste of that sweetness he'd been missing since his mom passed away, but he didn't have the heart to bring Lisa down with him.

He came from nothing and he was going nowhere.

"Hey Dean, do you want to go see that new movie with me and a few friends tomorrow?"

He was damaged.

"Thanks, but I have to work this weekend."

"Oh. Okay."

Something across the room caught Dean's eye. Castiel was squinting at him with his head tilted, as if Dean was a complicated math equation he was trying to work out. When Castiel realized Dean had noticed him, the boy shook his head, pulled on his backpack and bolted out the door. Dean stared after the mysterious boy before shouldering his duffle bag and heading over to the baseball field.

Right now, he couldn't worry over some odd kid with ocean eyes, or where his relationship with Lisa was going; he had his first game today.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: How to win a man by talking about women. Hope this chapter's a little better; I haven't been editing much, I'm trying to pop them out as fast as possible.

"Well, shit." Castiel cursed. He hated Mondays. He and Alfie had been on their way home from the grocery store with when his tired, old car blew something in the engine and finally gave up in the middle of the road. Luckily it was a quiet street. Castiel's parents had been more than willing to buy him a brand new car, but he didn't want to be ostentatious, so he had chosen a used car and even helped pay for it with the money he'd earned during a summer job. And now his efforts were turning around to bite him in the ass.

Alfie pulled out his phone. "It looks like there's an auto repair place only a couple blocks from here. I can run ahead and get some help?"

Castiel sighed. "That would be great, thanks. Get someone who can help us push the car there." Alfie nodded and ran off. Castiel got out of the car and went round to the back. He leaned against the trunk, waving aside the few cars that traveled down that street.

"We should get you an orange vest, you'd make a great traffic guard."

Castiel whipped his head around at the voice. Dean Winchester was wearing coveralls and a shit-eating grin. Great. Wonderful. All week, Dean had been trying to coax a conversation out of him in history class. Castiel always ignored him or ended it quickly, leaving Dean to turn to Lisa instead. He didn't understand why Dean bothered with him in the first place, when Lisa was there and more than happy to have his attention.

He gave Alfie a pointed look. "Really?" _When I said someone strong enough to push a car, I didn't mean one of the school jocks._ Alfie shrugged and gave him a coy smile. He knew exactly what Castiel was saying, but just didn't care. He obviously had his own opinion of Dean.

"What? Dean's cool." Yup, there it is.

"That's because you're a nerd. One) _everyone_ is cooler than you are in comparison, and Two) you're obligated to say that so you don't get pushed into a locker."

"Hey!" Dean protested. "I would never do that!"

Castiel cocked an eyebrow at him. "I never said it would be you." Dean gaped at him but he just playfully ruffled Alfie's hair. "Go get behind the wheel, Weiner kid."

Alfie slapped his hand away and smoothed his hair as he went to the driver's seat. "Fine. Alter boy."

"Ass butt!"

"Creep!" Alfie slammed the car door and flashed Castiel a smug smile in the rearview mirror, knowing he had won the spat.

"Ass butt?" Dean looked to Castiel, obviously amused.

"It's the closest he lets me get to swearing, since he's still cute and innocent. Our parents think it's a sin."

"What do _you_ think?" Dean asked slyly. Castiel stared at him directly.

"I think that if you're going to pick up something in high school, it's better that than STDs," he deadpanned. He positioned himself to start pushing the car.

Dean held out his hand to stop him. "Whoa, hey! I can do this. It's kind of a long way to go, so why don't you go on ahead and start filling out the paperwork?"

Castiel frowned. "But it's faster with two people."

"Don't worry about it, you don't need to strain yourself."

Castiel shot him a pointed look and began pushing the car with ease. By the expression on Dean's face, it was apparently moving faster than he expected. Dean leaned down next to Castiel and pushed as well, ignoring Castiel's continued glare.

"I'm not as weak as you think." He was just slender, dammit.

At least Dean had the decency to look abashed. They pushed a little while longer before Dean got the courage to speak up.

"So I take it you're virgin?" he said casually. Castiel paused at first, but then realized Dean was referencing his comment on STDs. He mentally rolled his eyes.

"I take it you're not?" He replied, avoiding the question.

"Nope." Dean seemed proud. Of course he would be.

"Good for you, I guess."

"Thanks, I guess?" Castiel smirked.

"Tell me, Dean. What does it say about society when a man is congratulated for having sex as a teenager, while a woman is called a slut for the same reason?"

"Uh, it sucks for the woman?"

"Perhaps. However, a man is ridiculed if he remains celibate in his teenage years, and that is also unfair."

"Uh… sure."

"But then again," Castiel added, stubbornly elongating the tangent, "if a woman abstains from sex as a teenager, she is called a prude. So women can't win either way, and that is the worst situation."

"What are you, like a feminist?"

Castiel looked Dean directly in the eye and stated firmly, "I am a feminist." Dean's eyebrows shot up. He looked slightly uncomfortable.

"So you _can_ think for yourself," Dean muttered.

"What?" Castiel frowned. What did he mean?

"Nothing," Dean said quickly. Castiel shook his head and continued.

"I don't have to be female to be a feminist, Dean. Feminism is not necessarily about 'girl power' like most people think, and it's not a dirty word. People shun it because it goes against the patriarchal society we live in and the social norms constructed within it. And, they're still turned off by the bra burning of the 60's. Modern feminism is not shameful at all –it is simply the belief that women and men are equal and should be treated as thus. I should think that most people could agree with that." Dean nodded dumbly at the information overload. At least he did not seem disgusted by Castiel's point of view (which was a first), and, more importantly, he was definitely distracted from talking about Castiel's life.

"I think you're just upset because you're a virgin and I called you out on it," the blonde boy spluttered.

Damn it, Dean.

"I never said I was a virgin."

"So you _have_ had sex?" Dean sounded genuinely surprised and Castiel wasn't sure whether or not he should feel insulted by it.

"I didn't say that, either."

Dean shook his head and chuckled. He looked at Castiel with a closed-mouth smile, his eyes shining, and…Castiel's heart melted a little. No one had ever looked at him like that before. It was pleasant. Endearing, even.

"Man, you're like a jigsaw puzzle, all sky." Even Castiel had to laugh a little at that. The silence returned and for the first time it was…comfortable.

"How many siblings do you have?" Well, at least this was a tame question.

"Too many for you to count on one hand," Castiel teased. Dean gave him a dirty look.

"I'm not as stupid you think," he countered. Castiel smiled at the parallel Dean created and answered honestly, "I know."

"Oh." Dean visibly relaxed. "I figured that you were trying to scare me away or mess with my head when you suddenly pulled Feminism 101 on me back there." Dean flashed Castiel a lopsided grin to add to his light-hearted tone. "But I get what you were saying. I haven't been doing college level stuff like you have, but…I'm not hopeless, either."

Castiel smiled and offered Dean a reward. "I have many older brothers and sisters. My sisters are all married and my brothers are all working as lawyers, doctors, engineers, or in the family business started by my father. My parents and siblings live in Chicago, and I live here with my older brother Gabriel and with Alfie. Alfie and I are the youngest."

Dean's eyes widened. "Wow. That's quite a family. I've just got Sammy and my dad, who works for the government doing god-knows-what, but it takes him all over the country."

"What about your mom?"

"She died in a house fire when I was young."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"We're here."

They pushed the car into the garage and Dean got his tools and checked under the hood. Castiel watched as he worked. He noticed that Dean was purposely ignoring his gaze, checking the machinery and consulting with the owner, whom Castiel realized was Mr. Singer from the school. Dean only stopped to point out what was wrong with the engine to his Castiel and Alfie.

"Two days?" Castiel groaned. He couldn't go two whole days without his car!

"Is there a problem?" Dean tiled his head in confusion as they walked into the office. "I thought you guys walked to school?"

"We do, but I have crew practice in the morning; it's a twenty minute drive."

Alfie poked Castiel. "Why not just borrow Gabe's car?"

"Because he has to go to work at 7:30 and practice doesn't end until after that time." Castiel rubbed his temples. "I'll just have to get a lift from someone." He pulled out his phone and began searching for Garth's number.

"I could drive you."

"What?" Castiel had to make sure he hadn't heard wrong.

Dean shrugged. "I could drive you," he repeated. Castiel scoffed.

"Trust me, you won't want to get up at 5 in the morning."

"I don't mind," Dean persisted. "I only need like four hours of sleep to function anyway." Castiel eyed him warily.

"Why are you trying so hard to be friendly to me?"

"Why are you trying so hard to avoid me?" Castiel narrowed his eyes. He found a pen and paper on the desk and wrote down his address for Dean. Dean smiled like he'd given him a ticket to Willy Wonka's factory.

"Please be there at 5:05 at the latest. And don't be late."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Almost 2,000 words. Jesus. I better make them good.

5:02am and Dean was texting Castiel from his Chevy Impala. The boy came out of his two-story house looking larger than normal –he was wearing several layers of sweats, shirts, and jackets, and Dean could not blame him. It was cold, and Dean had his heater turned on full blast.

"I'm impressed," Castiel said as he slid into the seat.

"Believe me, so am I," Dean admitted groggily as he rubbed his hand over his face. Castiel handed him a travel mug. "I hope you like black."

Dean sighed as he took a sip of the hot coffee. "Mm. I think I love you."

"Trust me, you won't in a sec," Castiel said as he turned down the heat. Dean eyed his passenger like he was a madman. "Why would you do that."

Castiel gave him a sympathetic look. "Because if I got out of the car after toasting in it for twenty minutes, I would probably cry. Being somewhat used to the outside temperature makes it easier." He handed him the large Patagonia jacket he'd been holding. "Here, wear this."

Dean unbuckled his seatbelt and less than gracefully slipped it on. It was a little bulky, but it kept him warm. He shifted his baby into gear and started heading down the street with Castiel's directions.

"Turn onto the freeway here," Castiel said, his voice a little muffled. Dean made the mistake of glancing at the passenger side to find Castiel's pink lips wrapped around a banana. He stared at the offending fruit in horror.

"Uh…"

"Now it's one smooth ride for the next ten to fifteen minutes."

Dean groaned internally. _That doesn't turn me on, _he told himself casually. _Does that turn me on?_ He glanced again at Castiel, who was taking another bite.

_Yeah that turns me on. Great. Wait a minute. That turns me on? Oh my god THAT TURNS ME ON. _Shit_. Since when did something like that turn me on? Am I gay? Nah, I'm not gay. I've always liked girls. Yeah, I like girls. A lot. My mind probably thinks Castiel's a girl, if he's eating a banana. Yeah. I'm imagining a girl eating a banana._

He looked down at the slight bulge in his jeans, grateful that Castiel couldn't see at the moment because he was eating thatfuckingbanana.

_Girls, Dean. Think of girls._

He imagined Lisa's lithe figure and soft curves, her sweet laugh, her dark hair and blue eyes…

Lisa doesn't have blue eyes.

Dean looked back at Castiel. Now Castiel was biting into a hardboiled egg –_from where the hell does this food keep coming from?_— when he noticed Dean staring at him.

"Is something wrong, Dean?" Castiel said around a mouthful of—

EGG. A mouthful of EGG.

Jesus Christ, there was no stopping this avalanche once it started. Dean's eyes were transfixed on Castiel as he watched him drink from his water bottle, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah, I'm fine." His voice came out about an octave higher.

Dean cleared his throat. "So tell me about…whatever it is you're going to do."

"Well, we have two 8 boats and two 4 boats. An 8 boat has eight rowers in it, and a 4 has four rowers. Big surprise. All of our rowers sweep, meaning they only use one oar and row on one side of the boat, either on starboard or port. I row starboard, in the bow, which is the front of the boat. I'm the furthest from the coxswain, who sits in the stern."

"That's the little guy with the microphone in the back, right?"

"Yeah, he uses a cox box and a headset to give out orders to us while we're rowing. Coxswains also have to navigate the river and keep an eye on the stroke rate."

_Cox. Stroke. Stroke cox. Stroke?_ "Stroke?"

"A stroke is when the oar passes through the water, propelling the boat forward. The faster you stroke, the harder you work. You get really worn out and sweaty."

Dean was ready to die. God, was Castiel doing this on purpose?

"And sometimes, when you're going at it really hard, the rowers in front of you get a little out of control and start splashing you, so not only are you sweaty, but you're getting wet, so you're covered in all kinds of fluids. The shaft of your oar gets wet, too, and it gets harder to hold on."

Shaft. Fluids. Sweaty. Out of control. _This_ was getting out of control. Dean's heartbeat rate was climbing. He shifted awkwardly in his seat as Castiel continued. "And even though you feel really gross, you can't stop until the coxswain lets you, which rarely happens. Usually the boat is moving throughout the entire practice, so for an hour, hour and a half, you're just _going at it_ the whole time, with the coxswain yelling at you to 'push,' and 'slam,' and 'drive hard.' Since you're going _all morning long_, he has to keep everyone's spirits up and encourage them, see? So he also says stuff like, 'Give it to me!' and 'Show me what you got!'" Castiel was practically screaming that last bit and Dean was worried for a second that they were climaxing. He was getting so hard it was almost painful, and then Castiel started shouting desperately at him and he thought…

"You little shit," Dean glared at Castiel, who was grinning mischievously at him. It was the most face muscles he'd ever seen Castiel use.

"How hard did I get you?"

"You didn't." Dean wanted to slap that shit-eating grin off Castiel's face.

"Yeah I did. At least a little."

"Fine. But it was just a little."

"Mm-hmm…"

"Just a little! That's all it was!" Dean could feel his face heat up with embarrassment but couldn't help grinning, too.

"You fucker, I had no idea what you were doing the whole time. God, do you always yank people's chains like that?" He suddenly realized what he'd said. "Oh wait—dammit!" Castiel's grin could not get any wider, and Den chose to ignore it by vehemently focusing on exiting the freeway.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew that I do have a sense of humor. I'm not a robot," Castiel took another swig from his water bottle.

Dean chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot of the boathouse. "Yeah, well what a way to spring on me. One minute I thought you didn't know how to smile and the next, you were making me have a gay crisis," he joked. He quickly found a parking space and turned to Castiel but paused. Castiel's lips were still glistening from the water he drank and a drop had cascaded down to his chin without him noticing.

Castiel stopped moving as well, when he noticed Dean staring at his lips. His tongue darted out as he licked them nervously. "Is that so?"

Dean said nothing. He reached out, but hesitated with his hand in midair. Their faces were less than a foot apart, and both boys started breathing more rapidly. When had they gotten so close?

Dean pulled back and gestured to his chin. "You've got…"

"Oh." Castiel quickly wiped his face with his sleeve and sat there awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "Do you um, you don't want to come say hello to the team, do you?"

Dean gave him a small smile. "Okay."

They got out and walked to the boathouse and Dean was grateful for the coat Castiel had given him. _It smells like him,_ he realized happily. _No. Focus, Dean._ He pulled the detachable, gray cotton hood over his head to hide the blush on his cheeks, but ended up fully wrapping himself in a _cocoon_ of Castiel's scent.

God, Castiel was going to kill him someday. And he was going to die happy. Wait, really? Since when did he like guys?

"Hey guys," Castiel called out to about two dozen teenaged boys milling around, stretching their limbs or taping their hands. "This is Dean. He's never seen a rowing team before, so let's look halfway coordinated today, alright?"

"Come on Bow!" Someone yelled back. "Don't be a backseat coxswain!"

"Hey, I always keep my mouth shut and you know it! Trust me, I could say a number of things about your form, Three-tard." A few boys laughed at the other boy's expense, while he just pulled a face and poked fun at another rower in return. Mostly everyone just said a quick "hello" to Dean; he recognized a few familiar faces from C. Shirley High, but most of the kids, he figured, went to other schools. It was an independent team, after all, so they probably came from all over the county.

"Oh hey, Dean! What are you doing here?" Dean turned around and was surprised to see Sam's scrawny sort-of-friend, Garth.

Dean waved to him. "Castiel's car broke down, so I'm giving him a ride to practice until it's up and running."

Garth raised his eyebrows at him. "Oh, I didn't think he had any friends." A worried look passed over Dean's face at that expression. As well as Castiel seemed to get along with his teammates, apparently that's all they were: teammates. Dean quickly directed the subject away from Castiel.

"I didn't realize you were on the crew team. You seem kind of…lightweight, to be a rower."

"That's because I'm not a rower; I'm the coxswain in Castiel's boat," he said proudly.

"Oh," Dean said. Before he could say anything else, the coaches came out of the boathouse and rounded everyone up.

"Hey, Cass, I'll meet you in the car, okay?" Castiel stopped what he was doing and stared at him.

"What?" Dean asked. His friend shook his head.

"Nothing." He gave Dean a small smile. "We'll be done around 7:30. Then I'll treat you to breakfast at the diner down the street as a thank you."

Dean grinned whole-heartedly. "Deal."

A/N: Ask any rower and they will literally give you a list of the reasons why they are the best in bed.

Apparently a three-tard (referring to the third person in an 8 boat, counting from Bow (one) to Stern (eight)) is a play on "retard," insinuating that the third person has the easiest job. You can look on Wikipedia for an explanation of each rower's responsibilities –yes, they are all placed in their seats for different reasons.

I made Castiel the bowman because, aside from the coxswain on the other end, the bow seat is the only one that can see all of the rowers at the same time, and can see how coordinated they are both as a whole and individually –however, he can't really say anything. Only the coxswain is allowed to talk in a boat, for reasons of both safety and clarity. With too many people talking at once, rowers can mix up directions, get out of sync, or even crash into something. The bow seat is also one of the most precise rowers; while all rowers are physically strong, the bow seat tends to be less powerful than most others. S/he is more focused on the technical stuff –like her/his form and the balance of the boat—than on simply rowing really hard. I thought this position and this sport were perfect for this fic's Cas because it shows him as obedient, quiet, watchful, smart, and technical. There is little individuality in this sport: just hard work and teamwork.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up to rapping on the window. He quickly got his bearings and let Castiel in. Castiel pulled a couple milk cartons from his duffle and immediately started chugging one.

"Is that… chocolate milk?" Castiel nodded as he continued drinking. He finished the first carton and gasped, "Food. I need food. Now." Dean chuckled and pulled out of the parking lot, toward the diner he'd seen down the street on their way in. "Whoa, slow down there, Cas! Is that stuff drugged?"

Cass finished the second carton and shook his head. "Protein." They went into the diner and Castiel went straight to a seat at the back, giving his order to the waitress the second she showed up. Dean barely managed to stutter out, "Uh, eggs and bacon for me, please." He tapped a rhythm on the table and looked around while Cass removed a couple river-drenched layers in favor of the dry extras packed neatly in his duffle bag. Several other rowers were at the diner as well, but they were grouped at a couple tables on the other side. The food came surprisingly quickly, and Castiel dove in immediately. Dean watched as he scarfed down three eggs, three pancakes, and a side of bacon, another banana, and a glass of orange juice. Dean stared in shock at the boy who was normally so passive and controlled. After a minute, Castiel stopped in the middle of a syrup-soaked, pancake-wrapped slice of banana and looked up at him. "What?"

Dean shook his head and smiled. "Nothing." He quickly ate his eggs, and as he waited for Cass to finish his mountain of food, he pulled out the remainder of his physics homework.

"Do you need help with that?" Dean looked up from his work and smoothed out his face. He didn't realize he'd been frowning.

"Huh?"

"Do you need help with your homework?"

"Oh, um, sure." He pointed to the question he had been working on, and Castiel took a look.

"It's kind of asking a trick question. To understand it better, you should break down the components. Let's start with this part here: do you know what entropy is?"

"Um… I think so, but I'm not really sure. Isn't it something to do with chaos?"

"Well, sort of. It's disorder. Chaos is the mess your earphones get into when you put them in your pocket. Entropy is the measure of disorder in a system…"

Castiel helped him finish his homework, until it was time to start heading toward the school; Castiel still had to shower in the locker room and change before the bell rang. During the drive, they easily talked about music, their brothers, and the creepy lunch lady that always winked at them. Castiel was relaxed, and Dean was thrilled that he could get the usually quiet boy to talk this much. When they pulled into the school parking lot, however, the magic ended.

As they walked together toward the school, Dean noticed Castiel getting more and more tense; the few students that had shown up early were staring at them in wonder. Dean rolled his eyes and looked at his friend, who kept his head down and was evidently trying to disappear.

"Hey Cass, do you want to have lunch w—?"

"See you in history."

Before Dean could say anything, Castiel darted off toward the gym, leaving him alone and confused. Why didn't Cass want to be seen around Dean? Sure, they had gotten off a to a rocky start, but that morning it felt like they could potentially become good friends. At least, that was what it seemed to Dean.

Dean sighed and plopped down on a bench in the courtyard. That morning –and the evening before—had been very strange. Dean had seen a completely different side of Castiel; the student he had once deemed robotic and boring was actually funny, mischievous, and bold, in his own quirky way. And not only was he book smart, but also intelligent in a way that just didn't happen at small, random, Midwestern high schools. Dean admired Castiel, he knew, and it scared him a little. Was it in a purely platonic way? This morning's _incident_ had suggested otherwise…

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. It was time to face the truth. He'd been avoiding it for a couple years, but he was eighteen, dammit, and it was time he stopped hiding from the fact that he...liked...dudes. There, he said it. In his head. But at least he could finally admit it to himself.

First there had been Aaron in eighth grade, who had flirted with him as a joke but Dean had seriously considered the idea. Aaron wasn't much of a looker, but Dean had considered his quirkiness..._cute_. But the biggest red flag waved last year, when Dean suspected he felt something for Benny, his best friend at his school in Louisiana. Benny had had the kindest eyes and the sweetest disposition, if you were on his good side.

Castiel, however, was something entirely different. Dean wouldn't say he had a full-on crush on Castiel, not yet, but there was definitely some sort of attraction.

Dean shook his head. This infatuation would probably pass soon enough, just like the rest. He would get over it and move on. Besides, he sort of had something going on with Lisa.

Shit, Lisa. He'd almost forgotten about her. He cringed as he felt a chick-flick moment coming on. This was why he hated feelings and emotions; they got in the way of everything, and he just never could justify liking two people at the same time without feeling like a jerk, as if he was cheating on one or the other or both, even though there was no official agreement with either.

The warning bell rang, and Dean made his way to his first period. He resolved that this thing with Castiel –whatever it was— would just go away, and until then, he would assume that they were just friends. And with Lisa… Dean's shoulders drooped.

It was in her best interest that their relationship never progressed.

* * *

A/N: I just discovered these lines of separation.^ Yay me.

My university has a crew team and they are definitely a lively bunch at 8 in the morning, once they've had a proper breakfast. And whoever blocks them from their after-practice meal better pray for an act of mercy. I will probably share some more stories that are typical of rowers, because I have never met a group of athletes that made me laugh more. And it's my way of coping with Dean's angst, because I can't handle chick-flick moments, either.

Oh, and shout out to Queen Beanie and AnnieWrites –thanks for the love, dolls. And thanks to everyone else following this story, the notifications I received this morning made me giddy until my dog gave me a weird look. And you thought cats were sassy.

Tip: Yes, drinking chocolate milk after a vigorous, 30+ minute workout is a real thing. I heard about it on NPR and from multiple athletes and trainers. You need protein after using that much energy; Gatorade Series 3 (called Recovery) provides post-game protein, but a glass of chocolate milk works just was well. I know which one I prefer.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Dean interrogates the Novaks' cutest little brother.

* * *

Castiel ignored Dean all through history, and it felt like all the time Dean had spent with him in the last twenty-four hours had never happened. It felt as if Cass, Belleville's Best Kept Secret, had all been a dream and Castiel was just a shell of a person, after all. The saving grace of Dean's sanity was the glass slipper Castiel left behind when he reminded Dean, "See you tomorrow morning," before disappearing into the lunch crowd. Dean accepted that he wouldn't see Castiel –and certainly not Cass—for the rest of the school day, and let Lisa lead him over to the cafeteria. Dean had sent a silent "thank you" to the heavens that she had not heard the brief exchange between him and Castiel, and then suddenly felt guilty about it –he knew not why.

Dean's mood was lightened when he finished baseball practice to find Sam and Alfie waiting for him by the field (apparently they needed to work on a project due that Friday). Sam then happily informed Dean that his tryouts for the track team had gone well, and that he would start training with them in preparation for the spring season. Dean was relieved; Sam had been walking home alone after school, but now that he would be staying at the school as long as he did, Dean could drive him home afterward. Dean also secretly hoped that Sam would be able to make more friends now that he was part of an organization.

Once he had the younger boys trapped in the car with nowhere else to go, Dean began interrogating Alfie. He wanted more information. He wanted to know if their parents subjected Castiel and Alfie to the same restrictions, if Alfie was as much a wild card as his brother, why they all had unusual names, what their life was like now that they were living with Gabriel… anything.

"So, Alfie, how come you stayed after hours at the school?"

"I had swim practice," Alfie answered cheerily from the back seat. Dean frowned. "But Cass said he either had to join either a crew team or a golf team. Didn't your parents tell you the same thing?"

"Cass?" Dean paused.

"Uh, your brother."

"Oh. Well, it's a bit of a long story."

"We've got time."

"Um, Castiel and I both started swimming in middle school, and he was really good, but… I'm the only one that continued in high school. He knew that I loved swimming –like, really loved it—and he thought that I should have something that was special to me, you know?"

"No, not really."

"Well, with the exception of Gabriel, everyone in our family does the same thing: they graduate as the valedictorian of their high school, they go to Harvard, and they make a lot of money and do a lot of good. It's all the same. I told him that I really enjoyed swimming, and he decided that I should have this experience to myself."

"So what happened?" Dean asked, thoroughly intrigued.

"Our family didn't expect us to continue swimming after middle school. It was just something to do until we were old enough to join the crew or golf teams in the area; crew because it's a popular East Coast recreation and Harvard tradition, and golf because it's useful for getting business connections at country clubs. And, they're both "gentlemen's sports," unlike swimming. Castiel was really good, but he threw his races and secretly coached me, and helped me win enough medals to get Father's attention."

"He_ threw _his races?" Dean ignored Sam's bitch face. It was the one that said, _Dean, calm your tits. _Alfie merely nodded, then eyed Dean in the rearview mirror.

"He's got a lot of heart –sometimes, I think he has too much. Even after he dropped out and started rowing, he helped me perfect all four strokes, and taught me how to be efficient –little changes to my streamline, flip turn, dive, everything. Eventually Father agreed to let me continue swimming; he said it would look really impressive if I was recruited to a Division I team. I'm not really interested in being the next Michael Phelps, but I'm glad that Castiel gave me this part of my life." Alfie looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"I just wish that he would enjoy his a little more."

Dean let all of this new information sink in. "And is he…happy? Rowing instead of swimming?"

"Yes, as far as I can tell. He said he didn't care much for swimming anyway, and he seems to like his crew team."

"Oh. That's good." Dean tapped his thumb on the steering wheel awkwardly. "So at Harvard, are you going to be a Dr. Sexy, M.D. like Cass?"

"You think Castiel is sexy?" Alfie asked in a playful tone. Crayola itself couldn't create a color so vibrant a red as Dean's face at that very moment.

"Wha—? No! No, no! I was just making a TV reference! I didn't mean that I thought he was sexy –not that he isn't—I mean. Ugh. Just answer the question, kid."

Sam sniggered at his brother's distress while Alfie smiled at him knowingly. Castiel was right. The kid was an ass butt.

"I will most likely study finance in college. Father wants Castiel to be a doctor because he believes him to be the healing type." Silence followed, as Dean had no idea what to say next. After a moment, however, he glanced in the mirror and realized that Alfie had been watching him carefully –was the silent staring treatment hereditary?

"What?" Dean demanded, a little irritated. Alfie laughed lightly. "Castiel warned me that you would start the Second Spanish Inquisition." Dean's ears turned pink and he smiled sheepishly at the smaller boy.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I guess I'm just a little curious." Alfie waved him off.

"It's fine. Unlike Castiel, I am not adverse to telling people about myself."

Dean nodded. Dean knew firsthand how guarded Castiel could be, and he hadn't known what to expect with his brother. Alfie seemed fairly normal in the social skills department, though. He couldn't see why the rest of the school avoided him like the plague. Then again, it was always that way for Sammy, and Dean didn't understand that, either –Sammy was a good kid. Dean would know; he raised him. School was just a weird place of equal parts opportunity and enlightenment, and stupidity and traumatic experiences.

"I've just got one more question." Sam rolled his eyes and was to about to protest when Dean parked in front of a Round Table.

"What toppings do you kids want on your pizza?"

* * *

A/N: I didn't expect for most of this to happen, nor did I plan for this background about Castiel and Alfie beforehand. The characterization kind of slipped out and surprised me, but I'm pretty happy with it. Besides, Alfie's kinda growing on me. I'm going to try and get him and Sam into more of the chapters.


	9. Chapter 9

"I can't believe your brother had never tried pizza."

Castiel simply blinked at Dean, pausing in buckling his seatbelt. "Huh? Oh right, he was raving about it when he came back home last night."

"Please tell me you're not as equally deprived," Dean said, tilting his head down and looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow expectantly.

Castiel shrugged.

"I wouldn't know. I've never tried it, either. We eat wholesome meals, even if Gabriel adds a pound of sugar to his plate."

"Unbelievable," Dean shook his head. They continued talking about all of the foods that Castiel hadn't tried, and Dean's jaw dropped lower and lower until it was nearly in his lap. Castiel admitted that he had never tried burgers, spam, or meatloaf and a number of sodas, chips, and packaged sweets.

"I weep at the loss of your childhood," Dean said with mock sadness. Castiel let out a bark of laughter at the absurd reaction.

"Dean, you're overreacting."

"Dude, what's the point of being American if you're not going to eat hormone-injected meats and other overly-processed foods?" Castiel stared at him in disbelief, but couldn't help feeling amused by how incredibly fond Dean was of his diet, despite knowing how poor it was.

"I like to live a healthy lifestyle," Castiel replied. "We only eat organic meats and dairy and fresh produce. You live longer that way."

"People are already living too long, Cass! The point is to reach fifty and then get out of the way for the next generation so you don't use up their resources. And you're going to die anyway, so may as well die happy, right?"

Castiel shook his head and smiled. He countered, "Aren't you disgusted by what companies put in their products just to keep you coming back for more? What most consumers don't realize is that they add sugar just to keep you addicted and then add salt to balance out the flavor. They only care about the sale, not people's health. I don't even want to think about what they probably do to keep canned goods so well preserved."

"Hey! Leave spam out of it!" Dean pouted, but kept his playful tone. "That's a living piece of history –it's what people ate during the war when they had to ration their food supply."

"But we haven't needed to ration our food as a nation for decades now."

"No, but people kept eating it when they couldn't afford real meat."

Castiel felt a pang of guilt as he was once again reminded of how fortunate he was. His family had never needed to eat spam or save the leftovers to make meatloaf the next night; even with eleven children, his family had always had more than enough to satisfy everyone.

"Fine," he relented. "I'll try eating Spam someday." A grin spread across Dean's face.

"Really?" he asked hesitantly.

Castiel nodded in confirmation. "Sure, why not?"

The conversation continued to flow easily after that. Dean didn't press him for personal questions like before, and Castiel was thankful. Although, with Dean, he didn't mind as much. Dean just seemed genuinely curious about him –unlike most people, who either wanted to get close to him for his money and connections or find more reason to talk about him behind his back. Or insult him to his face.

When they arrived at the boathouse, Castiel went to his head coach for a small request. Josh seemed a little surprised at first, but readily accepted, and then eyed Castiel and Dean in a way that confused him. He brushed the matter aside and went to help carry his boat down to the dock, and as all eight rowers raised it to their shoulders, his Two-seat, Balthazar, made an off-color comment about how snug Castiel's form-fitting track pants were and nodded his head in the direction of a dazed Dean. Castiel scoffed and assured his bow pair partner that Dean didn't swing that way. At least, he didn't think he did.

Once they had retrieved the oars and settled into their respective seats in the boat in the water, he saw Dean follow Joshua down the ramp to the river, wearing an ill-fitting life vest and a bulky, waterproof parka over it. The alarmingly orange apparel was required of passengers riding in the launch, and everyone who wore them felt stupid –so of course Castiel snickered at Dean's expense. Dean blushed faintly and stuck his tongue out at him as he awkwardly climbed into the small motorboat the coaches used.

Garth waited for everyone to count off then called for starboard side rowers to push off from the dock, before starting his usual spiel.

"Gooooooood morning, Belleville!" his voice crackled into the darkness, sounding from the small speaker just in front of Balthazar. "Welcome aboard, gentlemen, this is your coxswain speaking. If you haven't already done so, please stow your water bottles or extra layers in the space beneath your legs or under the seat in front of you." Garth abruptly turned away to listen to Josh's instructions, but Castiel couldn't hear from his end of the boat. Garth turned back around and explained, "Josh's boat isn't starting so we're just gonna go ahead and warm up without him. Bow pair, please row."

Castiel quickly adjusted his Hufflepuff beanie and followed Balthazar's lead as they rowed further out into the river. Given the extra time, Garth cheerfully continued with his announcements in an effort to wake up the zombie-like crew. "It is currently six in the morning and what a _lovely_ morning it is, gentlemen. If hell froze over, this is probably what it would feel like. I expect that the sun will be up in about an hour so until then, we'll just have to go by the bow light –hopefully the suction cup actually stays on this time. Bow pair, way enough*. Stern six, arms only, please."

Castiel and Balthazar rested their oars flat on the water, using them to set the boat while the other six began warm ups. The darkness surrounded their boat, held off only by the portable light attached to the boat behind Castiel. It was foggy, as well, so he could only make out the other boats' lights like sparse stars in the night sky.

Garth's voice drifted back into the quiet as he started singing eerily, "There's no earthly way of knowing… Which direction we are going…."

The voice of Victor, in the stern, caught in Garth's microphone and Castiel heard him remark sarcastically, "That's comforting to hear, Willy Wonka. Any signs of coach?"

Garth gave out new instructions for the warm up before turning in his seat and looking toward the dock. As if on cue, they heard a motor start and saw the launch making its way toward them.

"He's on his way, now," he informed them. "Okay, quick reminder before we really get started: the current's fast today and we'll be doing some race pieces so hold onto to your hats and glasses." Then, in his best 'Ghost Host of Haunted Mansion' voice, he added, "Para su seguridad, mantengan los manos, brazos, pies y piernas dentro del barco—"**

"Garth, give it a rest," Josh said, pulling the launch up next to the rowers.

"Remain seated, please. Permanecer sentados, por favor."

Josh addressed the boat," Sorry everyone, had a little engine trouble back there but Dean proved to be very helpful, so I guess we'll keep him. Now, let's start with some sets…"

The boys got to work, and Castiel tried to keep his eyes focused on nothing but Balthazar's back as they did a series of timed pieces. Occasionally, however, when his pair was allowed to stop and drink water or remove layers, he would steal quick glances at Dean. Dean looked sleepy but he seemed to be enjoying himself all the same. Castiel could see Josh occasionally turn to him and explain some of the mechanics of what they were doing. Castiel often caught Dean staring directly at him while he was rowing; Dean would look away quickly, but occasionally they shared a smile over Garth's antics.

At one point, Josh had called out to the boat, "I want you all to pretend that Dean and I are the competition. I'm going to keep the launch at a set pace, and your goal is to pass me. Coxswain, give them some motivation."

Garth nodded obediently and turned back to his crew with a serious look on his face.

"CRUSH THEIR SOULS."

Even though Castiel had been exerting quite a bit of energy as they picked up the pace, he had caught Dean's reaction out of the corner of his eye; Dean had almost lost it.

Castiel smiled as he remembered Dean nearly falling over with laughter but was quickly brought back to the present moment when Garth started singing again.

"Just around the river beeeeeeeennd!" The boats took a turn around a curve in the river, and the rowers recognized that they only had another ten minutes or so until they turned around and headed back downstream toward the boathouse. They rowed a little longer until Josh picked up his megaphone and called for them to way enough and take a water break. By now the sky had brightened considerably, but remained a pale gray that reflected in the water's surface and in the thick fog.

"Hey, boss?" Garth spoke through his headset. "Can we sing for Dean?"

"What have you been doing for the last hour?" Josh asked sarcastically.

"Hey! 'Look Down' wasn't my idea, for once! Stern pair decided to be all Jean Valjean and suddenly they wouldn't look me in the eye and next thing I knew, _everyone_ turned 24601 on me and started singing and—"

Josh cut him off, laughing lightly. "What did you have in mind, Javert?"

"We haven't done Queen in a while."

All the rowers cheered, while Dean simply raised his eyebrows. Josh gave them the go ahead and Garth had everyone line up their oars over the water, with the blades perpendicular to the surface. When the rowers turned the oars in the oarlock*** so that the blades were parallel to the water, and back again, it made a thudding sound with each turn. After turning once and back again, they dropped the blades into the water. Soon they got a rhythm going of _thud, thud, splash. Thud, thud, splash. Thud, thud, splash. Thud, thud, splash._

"Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, playin' in the street, gonna be a big man some day," Garth sang into his headset. Dean started laughing from the launch when he realized what they were doing. "You got mud on yo' face, you big disgrace, kickin' your can all over the place, singin'…"

All of the rowers began singing –more like shouting—at the cue, "WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU. WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU."

Castiel looked over to Dean and smiled fondly –he looked like he was having the time of his life. Castiel realized that he'd never seen Dean look like this at school, and wondered with a warm fluttering in his stomach if he had anything to do with the grin on Dean's face.

* * *

A/N: A friend told me about the "Well Will Rock You" oar trick. It's difficult to do because it makes the boat unbalanced, but when it's done right, it's really cool. So yeah, the Belleville Boys can do it. They're just that cool.

* * *

*Way enough: a command that means to stop rowing. To set a boat is to balance it and keep it from rocking side to side.

**_For your safety, keep your hands, arms, feet and legs inside the boat._

***Oarlock: a device that keeps the oar in place. Also, the blade of an oar is the part that actually goes into the water and pushes through it to propel the boat forward. Just in case you weren't sure.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Castiel questions how he could study excessively and feel like he knows everything, only to fail a test –an experience as vague and dissatisfactory as other wonders of the world like _Where the fuck did my socks go, I know I put them in the dryer_.

It's okay. Dean's here to help.

* * *

Dean was in the best mood he'd ever been in since arriving in Illinois. It had been a wonder to watch Castiel, not just because he looked damn fine in those track pants, but also because Dean had never before seen someone look so serene yet powerful. That morning, Dean realized how strong and graceful Castiel truly was; he had an incredible stamina and ability to focus, and his adaptability to the other rowers and the boat's movements had seemed effortless. To put it bluntly: Dean actually found it pretty hot. But he could appreciate the other factors of the experience, as well –like the camaraderie of the team and their openness to letting him join in on the fun, and the chance to spend a couple hours in the great outdoors, which Dean could relish any day.

The weather had been downright supernatural, from the spotting of boat lights like fireflies in the vast darkness of night, to the homogeneous blend of sky, fog and water that came about just before sunrise. At one point, Dean and Josh had become separated from the other boats in the bright mist, leaving them in the pale silver silence of a cloud-like world, where it was literally impossible to distinguish water from air. For the thirty glorious seconds before the sun emerged to dispel the fog, Dean had been floating, and in those moments he fully understood how Castiel could wake up at 5am –and at his parents' bidding, no less— and still say that he enjoyed it. Over breakfast, he told Castiel as much, and that he owed an apology.

"I know my parents can seem harsh and relentless in their control over my life," Castiel responded slowly, "and I know that you disagree with their methods ninety-nine percent of the time, but there is no denying that they love me, and that they are doing what they believe is best for me." And with that they settled their differences, respecting each other's way of life. However, Dean couldn't help wanting to change Castiel's, even by a fraction. Dean wanted Castiel to feel freedom and to be able to think for himself –inexplicably, he wanted him to be happy.

Dean wondered where they would go from this point, now that Castiel was getting his car back. Would they continue being sort-of-friends at school? Outside of school? _At all_, even?

With that thought, Dean got a sinking feeling in his stomach. As unusual a pair as they were, Dean realized that he didn't want to be without Castiel. Even aside from the mini-crush he had on the other boy, he really did enjoy his company; Cass was, so far, the only person he could really be himself around. Even with Sammy Dean had to be the big brother and, on occasion, the father. At school people assumed he was just another dumb jock. Castiel didn't judge him for who he was –Castiel didn't even _care_ who he was. To Castiel, Dean was just Dean, and that was refreshing beyond relief. Dean didn't want to let go of that. But Castiel apparently seemed to have other plans because, once again, he had bolted for the gym's locker room the minute they stepped out of the car.

Dean thought back to his conversation with Josh; Josh had made excuses about the motor, but once his students were out of earshot, Josh had a serious talk with Dean. Apparently Josh knew the Novak family personally and knew that Castiel liked to keep his life neatly categorized and separated where he could; he had school, crew, home and church, and the people and tasks never crossed over from one to another, if Castiel could help it. Which prompted Josh to ask where Dean fit in, as Castiel had never had a 'friends' folder. Dean honestly had no idea –he still didn't. At that, Josh had simply smiled and said something about a "special case," before finalizing his message:

_"Don't give up on Castiel. He'll come around eventually, and when he does, let him take care of you. And take care of him in return, because Lord knows he won't let anyone else do it. You two will be good for each other."_

Josh had spoken as if he knew Dean, personally. As if he had watched him all his life.

_ "How do you know?" Dean couldn't help but feel a little suspicious of this omniscient man._

_ "I'm a gardener by nature, Dean. At home, I develop seeds into beautiful flowers and fruit-bearing trees; and when I am here, I raise confused, naïve boys into solid young men. Let's just say that I know which nutrients living things need to grow and to thrive." And with that, he started the motor and turned to Dean, "Oh look! It's working now."_

And that was that.

Even without saying anything out loud, Dean knew that he had promised Josh that he would at least try. So try, he did.

Just before history class started, Dean whispered to Castiel, asking if he would like to hang out on Sunday (he was taking Sam fishing on Saturday). Castiel's eyes widened a little and there was a slight pause, but he quickly recovered and said he had a regatta (a boat race) on Sunday that was an hour's drive from Belleville. Dean tried adjusting the date or time, but the teacher walked in half way through his proposal and Castiel promptly hushed him.

"Are you talking to Castiel?" Lisa tapped his shoulder from behind. Dean knew she was trying not to sound surprised, but she was undoubtedly curious. Dean saw Cass stiffen slightly, so he shook his head and replied, "I was just checking if we had an assignment due in sports med today."

"Oh," Lisa smiled. Dean couldn't help thinking that she looked a little relieved. Dean subtly tried slipping notes to Castiel during class without the teacher or Lisa noticing, but whatever folded bits of paper that successfully made it onto Castiel's desk were quickly and discreetly brushed over the side and into his open backpack. At the end of class, the teacher passed out their progress reports and excused them for lunch. Dean packed his things and sighed, hoping for a miracle.

"Mr. Kripke, I don't understand how I got the grade I did. I always do the homework and I always study for the tests, but apparently it does nothing to raise my score." Dean perked his ears. Castiel was standing at the teacher's desk looking very concerned.

"Dean, are you coming?" Lisa was nodding toward the door.

"I'll catch up with you later, Lis, I need to talk to Mr. Kripke about something." Lisa looked at him sympathetically.

"Not doing as well as you'd hoped?" Dean inwardly frowned that she automatically assumed he had gotten a poor grade, but shook his head in confirmation. It was a lie –history had always been an easy A for him.

"I understand; I got a B myself." She wished him luck and headed out with the rest of the classmates.

And then there were two.

Dean came up behind Castiel on tiptoe.

"I'm sorry, Castiel. I know that you are a very responsible student and a hard worker, but if the answer's wrong, it's wrong. There's not much I can do."

"I could tutor him," Dean offered. He was surprised Castiel didn't get whiplash from turning so fast.

"Dean." It sounded like an exclamation of surprise, a desperate plea, and a warning, all at once.

"That's not such a bad idea, Dean," Mr. Kripke smiled, with a twinkle in his eye. He looked at Castiel. "Dean is acing this course, so if there was ever a person to help you raise your grade, it would be him." Castiel gaped at him, seeming at a loss for words. Mr. Kripke bunched some papers together and placed them in a drawer. "I'll leave it to you two to work it out," he said, before walking out the door himself.

Dean turned to Cass, trying to hide the victory on his face. "I could help you study for the test on Monday. Are you free on Friday? I have a game at 3 but you could come afterward, and stay as long as you like." Castiel sighed, still staring after their teacher.

"Friday will be fine," he relented, and swiftly walked out the door.

Dean tried not to punch the air or grin like an idiot.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: It just dawned on me that I've been writing C. Shirley instead of C. Shurley. Sometimes autocorrect gets a little too enthusiastic.

* * *

On Friday, Dean's game didn't go well –his team lost, 2 to 0. He had managed to get on base a couple times (which was more than anyone could say for a few of his teammates), but Dwayne Tanner had tried to be the big hero and score a home run instead of just popping a sacrificial fly ball*. Of course he failed miserably and they went into the next inning, wasting Dean's efforts and prompting Coach Singer to call Tanner an idjit. Not that Dwayne seemed to care. Dean learned after the game that, in spite of the loss, the baseball team was having a wild party at Tom's house and half the student body was invited.

"Come on, Winchester! It'll be awesome! My sister Meg would be _real_ happy if you came," Tom waggled his eyebrows as they headed to the parking lot. The first baseman promised plenty of alcohol, a pool, and no parents. Dean shook his head. A year ago, he would have been jumping at chance, but lately he was getting tired of the party scene. Plus, there was Cass…

"Sorry, man, I can't tonight."

"No way, dude! You have to go! A lot of girls will be _disappointed_ if you don't."

_Ooh, big word_, Dean thought dryly. Tom was one of his teammates whose vocabulary leaned toward monosyllabic, to put it nicely. Dean shook his head and laughed inwardly. _I must be spending too much time with Cass._ Not that he really minded.

"Dean."

Speak of the angel.

Dean turned around to find Castiel looking awkward in a CSHS sweatshirt; it looked hardly used and was a little small on him.

"Hey. Did you stay for the game?"

"Dude, you know that guy? That little nerd doesn't talk to _anyone_ –not even the other nerds!" Tom acted as if Castiel wasn't standing right next to him and could hear everything. Castiel looked a little ticked off, but he simply ignored him.

"Dean, would you like to study now or would you prefer that I come later?"

"Whoa, Dean. Since when do you _study_?" Dwayne said with obvious distaste for the last word. He appeared next to Castiel, boxing him in with Tom on the other side, and all three facing Dean like the panel on _American Idol_. And that's exactly what this felt like. A test. Judgment. "And since when does _anyone_ hang out with _him_?"

Dean didn't like this situation. He didn't like it one bit. And neither did Castiel, who was looking awkwardly at the ground with a look on his face that expressed exactly how much he didn't want to be standing between the two jocks.

Dean cleared his throat, searching for an answer. "He's–he's helping me study for Monday's history test." Castiel shot Dean a confused look, but it went unnoticed by the other two boys. Well, more like man-children.

"Seriously? You're studying instead of going to an awesome party with lots of hot chicks? What, you caught the White Tiger disease or something? Did this kid infect you?" Dean saw Castiel lock his jaw, but not say a word.

Dean shrugged, trying to act casual. "He's not _that_ bad."

They looked unconvinced.

"I'm failing Kripke's class so he suggested that I get help from Cass…tiel. I kind of have to do it tonight; I'm busy this weekend and my dad would kill me if I _failed_ a class." The reply seemed to soothe the boys well enough because they shook their heads sympathetically.

"Man, that sucks. And on top of all that, you had to get Mr. Ivy League. Ugh, whatever. See ya around, Winchester." Dean smiled bitterly at them but covered up with a cocky joke about their intake of booze that night, and watched them leave to their own cars.

"Dean. It is I who needs tutoring. Not you."

"Yeah but it's the only way I could get out of going to that party."

"I apologize, Dean, I had no idea there was a party tonight. You don't have to tutor me, I'm sure you'd much rather be there than with me. I can study on my own." Castiel began to walk off, but Dean grabbed his arm.

"I'd rather have you."

Castiel's eyes gleamed with so much meaning at that statement and it warmed Dean's heart. For once in his life, he had made the right decision.

"Come on," Dean jerked his head toward his baby. "It's about time you got acquainted with pizza." They went home, where Dean put in an order for a large pizza. In the meantime, he gave Cass a few bills and told him to walk down to the drugstore at the end of the block and get whatever drinks he wanted. Dean went around tidying up the living room and kitchen a bit, and pulled out a couple plates for the pizza.

_hey Sam where are u _He messaged his brother. _I ordered pizza_

_at Kevin's house playing video games. hope you don't mind._

_nope. more for me. text if you need a ride home._

Just as he got Sam's "ok," the doorbell rang. He opened the door expecting to find the pizza man but instead, Missouri walked in and whistled at the state of the house. She wiped a finger over the surface of a table and mockingly examined it for dust.

"You got a girl comin' over or somethin'?"

"No," Dean blushed. She just eyed him with an "Mm-hmm" and held out a roll of duct tape.

"Now I'm too scared to ask what you needed this for."

"Missouri! I just wanted to fix my dad's worktable! One of the legs is coming off."

"I don't need yo' excuses!" She put her hands up defensively and headed back toward the door. "Whatever you do on ya' own time is ya' own business. And I don't wanna hear about it."

Dean was short-circuiting. It didn't help that when they opened the door, they found Castiel on the other side carrying a six-pack. Missouri stopped in her tracks and looked Castiel over before turning back to Dean.

"Oh. It's one of _those_ kinds of get-togethers, huh? Boy, didn't anyone ev'ah tell you three's a crowd?"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT."

"Y'know, I never thought of you as one to figure another guy into the equation. You seem mo' like an _all-ladies'_ man to me."

Dean could die. And all Cass did was stand there squinting at them with his head tilted. Thank god he probably didn't understand what she was insinuating.

Missouri turned to look at Cass again. Noticing the brown glass bottles he as carrying, she turned back to Dean with her hands on her hips.

"_And_ you're drinking?" She demanded furiously.

"What? Cass!"

"What, Dean?"

Dean groaned. Why in the hell did Cass think to get alcohol? Sure, it was a Dean move to pull, and he wasn't complaining, but what on earth possessed Mr. Goody-goody to do it? And now they'd been caught.

"Ma'am, would you like one?"

And now they were offering to their guardian, apparently.

_"Excuse me?"_ Missouri exclaimed at the insolence of the stranger before her.

Cass simply picked a bottle from the little cardboard carrier and held it out to her. She snatched it up and inspected it, then smiled.

Dean wanted to hurl. That smile could not possibly mean anything good.

Missouri popped off the cap and took a sip. "What'd you say yo' name was, son?"

"Castiel. Castiel Novak." He held out his hand, which she shook but then held onto.

"Oh, one of the Novak kids, huh? Well…" she jerked her head toward Dean, "keep an eye on 'im."

Castiel nodded hesitantly but smiled when she winked at him with a pat to his hand. She thanked him for the drink and headed out the door, but not before poking her head back inside and winking at Dean, "Y'all have a nice night. And don't be stupid, Dean. He's a good kid."

Dean was absolutely bewildered.

"What did you give her?"

Castiel held out a bottle, which Dean immediately took a swig from. It was just IBC root beer.

"Root beer is one of the few sodas I know. And personally, I like it better out of the bottle."

Dean was relieved but also a little irritated. He didn't need this stressful kind of shit.

The pizza arrived soon after and they ate their dinner at the kitchen table while Dean reviewed the entire 19th century for Castiel so he could catch up in time for the next test. He went over Castiel's notes (which were immaculate and full to the brim with information) and highlighted the important parts, verbally adding examples of situations or inventions related to contemporary times. Occasionally, he went into depth about little stories and trivia that occurred during some of the important events they were studying. Castiel was captivated.

"After listening to you, the textbook feels…lacking," Castiel remarked after a couple hours, leaning back in his seat.

"That's the thing, man. History isn't just memorizing dates and names –the important thing, the reason why we learn it at all, is what people did and why did they do it. What drove them to make the decisions that they did and what was the lasting effect that resulted from their actions? We study history so we can learn from previous mistakes, and to appreciate the humanity that was shown in spite of desperate times."

Castiel chuckled. "Who knew a jock could be so profound?"

Dean stuck out his tongue, slipping back out of professor mode. "Yeah whatever, nerd. See if you get my help next time you need it," he teased.

Of course he would help Cass. He would always help Cass.

"So do you think you're ready for that test?" Dean drained his second bottle of root beer.

"I believe I am better prepared now than I ever could be if I had studied on my own," Castiel said warmly.

"Good. So whaddya say we ditch the books and watch some Star Wars or something."

"I've never seen Star Wars."

"Of course you haven't," Dean sighed, pushing away from the table. "Well, my friend, allow me to introduce you to Han Solo –one of the greatest heroes of all time."

Dean made a sweeping gesture toward the television before reaching to pull the DVD out of the disc travel case they had. DVD boxes took up too much room so they had consolidated all of their movies into one carrier long ago. Dean placed the disc into the player (bought from a second hand shop in town) and turned around to _Jesus Christ_- Castiel had apparently frozen to his spot right behind Dean, staring at him with owlish eyes.

"What?" Dean asked, looking about him for a clue.

"You called me 'friend.'"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, so?" he asked defensively.

Castiel just smiled, like there was a secret between the two of them that no one else knew about.

Understanding flooded Dean and he grinned back.

"Come on."

Dean sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. He looked at his watch: it was 8pm. He was really glad that Cass didn't have practice the next morning, meaning he could stay as long as he wanted. Dean secretly hoped that he would stay all night, though Castiel had expressed earlier that his parents would want him to go home at some point.

So if he fell asleep leaning against Dean's shoulder in the middle of Episode V, no one had to know. Dean rested his head against Castiel's and closed his eyes with a smile. He wasn't convinced that it was a very "friend"-ish thing to do, but he couldn't really be bothered to care at that moment. For once, he was happy with his life.

* * *

A/N: I've been putting in quite a bit of American culture. If anyone is unfamiliar with or doesn't understand some of the references, feel free to drop me a note and I'll gladly elaborate to the best of my abilities.

* A sac fly ball soars high into the air and is easily caught, resulting in an automatic 'out' for the batter. Normally, a team doesn't want an out, but if there is a runner already on a base, this is a strategic move to use because the ball's prolonged airtime allows the runner to advance to a scoring position (i.e. 2nd or 3rd base).


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know the fall-asleep-together-on-the-couch scenario isn't very original, but I needed to pick up the pace. This is a slow-build Destiel anyway, but I think it needs to be a little faster than molasses.

* * *

Castiel nuzzled a little further into Dean's neck and inhaled happily. He decided that he liked Dean's smell. He came to this conclusion about a second before he realized he was practically laying on top of the boy on the couch in his living room.

Completely and totally wide awake now and holding his breath, Castiel slowly untangled himself from Dean and backed away into an old, worn armchair, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around his legs. He watched Dean give a little whine at the loss of the warm body and slowly open his eyes. Lord, they were beautiful eyes –green as a field of grass under a big open sky. Castiel silently thrilled at their illumination in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Dean directed his striking gaze at him, and Castiel stiffened.

"Hey," Dean said softly with a sleepy smile. He stretched out on the couch with a satisfied hum before getting up and padding barefoot into the kitchen. Castiel shivered as he eyed the boy.

He could get used to waking up next to _that_ every morning.

_Get a grip, Castiel. It's just the pheromones talking. He doesn't like you, and you don't really like him. You don't have time for relationships, and if you ever do, it's going to be the _real thing_. Not like that stupid make-out session you had with Meg Masters two years ago, and not like this sudden eroticism you have for Bed-Head Dean._

Anyone, even Castiel, could easily see that Dean was an attractive, lusty young man. But waking up pressed against his body took matters to a different level entirely. Castiel could only describe it as deliciously intoxicating, before he chided his behavior.

He was so wrapped in his thoughts it took him a moment to realize that Dean was clanging around in the kitchen and whistling.

"Find whatever you want to watch on TV, breakfast will be ready in about ten to fifteen minutes." Castiel panicked.

He should leave. Now. In fact, he never should have stayed the night.

"You don't have to do that, Dean; I'll be leaving now."

"What? No way. Stay for breakfast." It was a straightforward command, and God knows Castiel wanted to obey, but he owed that obligation foremost to his parents. He hurried to find an excuse.

"But what about Sam? I don't want to get in the way of you two—"

"Sam's not even home. He texted me last night saying that he was staying at a friend's house. Besides, the lake's not far away, and we won't leave until noon, so…please stay." Castiel sighed. There was no beating around the bush.

"Dean, this was a mistake." Dean's face fell as if Castiel had told him that after spending the night together _not_ sleeping. He hurriedly corrected himself. "No! I mean, I enjoyed your company, but I shouldn't have stayed the night. Our parents don't like us spending the night at people's houses when we could be much more productive with our time."

"Cass, how old are you?" This threw him off.

"Eighteen, as of a couple months ago."

"You're legally an adult. You can refuse your parents if you want to," Dean said casually as he pulled eggs out of the refrigerator. "And it's not as if you weren't productive while you were here. You studied your ass off for that history test, and you learned about Star Wars and pizza." Dean gave him a cute lopsided smile, obviously proud of that last bit in particular.

"But right now I could be at home wor—"

"But you're not. Besides, everyone needs a break every once in a while. It's not very productive if you're so over-worked you become a shell of a person and burn out. That's why we have vacations, Cass! So _relax_. Watch some Saturday morning cartoons and just be a kid for once." Castiel couldn't argue with his logic. And to be fair, this _was_ the best weekend of his life so far.

"I thought you said I was a legal adult," Castiel teased. Dean stuck his tongue out but the smile was in his eyes. He'd won and he knew it.

"Whatever, smart-ass. Now go find some _Tom & Jerry_ while I cook up your usual dozen eggs and thirty pancakes."

The only cartoons Castiel could find were _The Regular Show_ and the latest season of _Spongebob_. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and grimaced.

"Never mind. I guess you'll just have to settle for something else until Boomerang comes on in twenty minutes." Castiel found a channel and happily settled down to watch until Dean brought in eggs, bacon, and a stack of pancakes.

"Why are you watching soccer? It's so boring."

"These guys are true athletes," Castiel argued. "They are constantly running, so they have incredible stamina. Not too mention, they have to be highly skilled to dribble the ball with their feet and kick the ball exactly in a way that curves where they want it to go. Soccer is amazing."

"But no one ever scores." Dean said bluntly as he stabbed at his eggs. He could be so stubborn.

"It's the most popular sport in the world. It requires the least amount of equipment and can be played anywhere, by anyone."

"Still: no one scores." Suddenly the TV became very excited.

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLL!" the announcers cheered.

Castiel smugly pointed at the screen. "They just scored."

"Yeah, 1 to 0 in the second half," Dean snorted. "Big deal."

"More reason to appreciate each point," Castiel shrugged. But Dean didn't seem to be listening.

"Dude, I just realized you're watching this in Spanish." Castiel rolled his eyes but brushed it aside.

"Mexican announcers are much more enthusiastic. The Americans are still flipping through the rule-book."

Dean laughed at that then paused. "Dooo…you understand it?"

"Besides English, I am fluent in Spanish and Korean."

"You know, maybe you should just move to a different country or something. Obviously this one is not good enough," he joked.

"I've never traveled," Castiel admitted. He couldn't help the twinge of sadness in his tone. "Well, I went to New York City once, a few years back, but other than that I've never been out of the state."

Dean looked at him in disbelief. "I've never been out of the country, either. But really? You've never been out of state?" Castiel shook his head and shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth to avoid conversation.

"We'll change that," Dean decided. Castiel blushed slightly upon realizing Dean had used "we." His blush darkened considerably when Dean suddenly set his utensils down and whipped his shirt off and threw it on the floor.

"It smells like bacon," Dean grunted. Castiel nodded dumbly, staring at the gorgeous boy sitting next to him on the couch. Dean had muscle but not too much bulk, as he was still just a wiry teenager and didn't try to compensate that with extra-heavy lifting like the linebackers did. As Castiel appreciated his smooth, solid torso and defined biceps, he suddenly got a brilliant idea for use of the syrup and it had absolutely nothing to do with pancakes. If Dean noticed his drooling, he didn't mention it.

"Mind if I switch to Scooby-Doo?"

Castiel cleared his throat and turned away. "Not at all." They continued eating and watched the Mystery Gang solve crimes. Castiel hadn't watched very many cartoons when he was younger, so he laughed with delight at Scooby's antics and Shaggy's wisecracks, while Dean glanced at him in amusement.

Yep. This was definitely the best weekend Castiel had ever had.

* * *

A/N: Kids' shows these days are a little disturbing. I miss the original Pokémon, The Wild Thornberrys (Debbie was the best), Rugrats, Bugs Bunny, Tom & Jerry, Scooby-Doo… Typical 90's kid –I'm shamelessly nostalgic like that.


	13. Chapter 13

For several weeks, Castiel and Dean kept up the same arrangement where Castiel would come over after school on Friday to "study." Actually, to Dean's credit, they did study history; and every week, Castiel refused to spend the night in spite of Dean's offers. A couple times, Sam and Alfie joined in on their study sessions but then later would go to Sam's room to allow their brothers some time alone with their only friend.

Dean and Castiel's friendship was an unusual one, however; Dean was no longer needed to drive Castiel to practice in the mornings, and they stopped speaking at school altogether. Dean tried to respect Castiel's wish for solitude, so he didn't approach him in public. But he was weighed down by this strain on their relationship. When they were alone, they had great chemistry together, and no one outside of school could deny that they were best friends. So why did Castiel avoid him so adamantly? Did it have to do with Dean's reputation?

Dean honestly didn't care about his reputation anymore. Sure, it had its perks, but Dean wanted the rest of the school to know as well as he did how amazing Castiel was.

On the last day before vacation, his journalism teacher handed out their prompts for the final that would be due at Winter Break. They were each assigned to write part of the last newspaper of the semester; individual students were assigned to movie reviews, comic strips, sports articles and others while a few pairs of students were given larger tasks like the headline or feature articles or taking the accompanying photos. Castiel was assigned, of all things, the opinion page. Dean had to interview a student.

The teacher merely suggested that he select someone interesting, but Dean knew what everyone expected of him; he should choose one of the popular kids because they held the power in the school and consequentially attracted the other students' attention like moths to a lamp. Dean weighed the options:

He didn't really like the class officers. Sure, Michael could certainly command presence, but the senior class president was just too serious. The vice-president Zach was a douchebag, and Naomi was okay but a bit of a control freak (which was how she got her job). Then there was Guy, the editor for the newspaper, but he was an arrogant hipster who constantly asked about Dean's love life to get some kind of juicy story out of him. Dean couldn't tolerate any of the football jocks; Brady, Marcus and Rosco were no doubt going to go pro with their talent, but they were boring outside of the sports section. Dick, who also played football, was mostly praised because he was head of the business elective and had led his team to win a number of competitions. But he also lived up to his name. As for the cheerleaders, Dean didn't care much for Ruby and Rachel, who were the captains.

Lisa, on the other hand, was America's sweetheart and well loved by everyone on and off the field.

Dean glanced at Lisa over their computers; she was working with Cassie on a winter fashion page. He bit his pen and considered her.

Lisa was perfect –maybe a little too perfect. Okay, so he still had a mad crush on her, but for the last month or so, he had been starting to notice how _unblemished_ she was, and to be truthful…

It was a little stale.

Feeling a little guilty about it, Dean decided to scratch her off the list as well.

Dean lamented that no one could appreciate the more divergent students like Jo or Ash. Ash was a genius that could program computers and who in fifth grade became fluent in Latin just for the hell of it. Jo was a brat sometimes but definitely had a mind of her own and was an expert knife-thrower. Charlie was a brilliant hacker and had once built a beach-ball sized replica of the Death Star out of Legos. And Garth was just Garth. Dean would have preferred to interview any one of them to any of the assholes at the top of the food chain.

And then came the face palm.

He would interview someone who wasn't _on_ the food chain.

That Friday evening, when Dean was catching Cass and Alfie up on the Indiana Jones movies (because "Harrison Ford is the best thing ever, after apple pie"), he took a leap of faith.

"Hey, Cass, wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"I'm busy."

And he fell. Not that he was surprised.

"Cass, you're busy every weekend. What could you possibly be doing?"

"Tomorrow we have a golf match at the country club as an obligation to our father," Alfie volunteered from the armchair. Castiel shot him a dirty look, but Dean was thrilled.

"Can I be your golf cart chauffeur?" Cass smirked.

"It's tradition to walk."

"So let me be your caddy."

"Why on earth would you want to spend the day carrying a heavy bag and following me around?"

"Because sometimes I get the crazy idea that we might be friends," Dean snapped.

Castiel considered him for a moment with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't know anything about golf."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "I've seen movies, and once a friend took me to a driving range. Besides, I don't need to know how to play; I'm just a grunt, right?" Sam looked up at him from the floor, with a worried expression on his brow.

"Dean, you're not just a grunt." Dean ruffled his kid brother's hair but said nothing.

"Fine. I can see I won't win," Castiel decided, glowering at Dean's inner celebration. "But you have to wear slacks and a nice shirt."

Dean grimaced and began to panic when he realized that he didn't own a pair of anything that wasn't jeans.

"You can borrow from me," Castiel offered, seeming to understand his dilemma. Dean smiled wryly at him.

"Sounds good."

* * *

A/N: To all those who think that golf is not a proper sport: never tell a person with a heavy stick of metal that what s/he does is not athleticism.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Sort of been having a '_What am I doing with my life/What am I going to do with my life'_ crisis, but I just watched Ashton Kutcher's People's Choice Awards acceptance speech and I'm feeling a little more hopeful.

Doesn't mean I know where this story is going, though. It's kind of derailed on me, but instead of trying to get it back on track, I think I'm going to watch and see where it goes. Thanks for reading so far! I hope I can continue to deliver.

**Disclaimer**: I have never been to a country club and I have no idea if they are still open in mid-November in Illinois. My dad goes to Scotland annually to play in rain and cold temperatures, so I figured there might be some people as crazy as him trying to get in one more game.

* * *

Castiel was starting to get a fetish for Preppy Dean.

He couldn't decide what turned him on more: Dean wearing his clothes or Dean looking so white-picket-fence perfect with his hair gelled and wearing a neat, charcoal gray sweater and spotless white sneakers. Not to mention, Castiel's clothes were just a little too tight on him, so the slacks hugged his ass beautifully. Castiel smugly noticed how many of the women and gay men at the club were eying him hungrily. To be truthful, so was he.

In the last couple weeks, he had accepted that he liked to stare at Dean a lot. There was much to appreciate. Initially he had been keen to stifle his attraction to Dean, mostly because he didn't expect anything good to come of it, but later realized that nothing would come of his interests anyway, as Dean was straight. And even if he wasn't, he had a certain public image to uphold that did not allow room for homoerotic tendencies. So Castiel continued to suppress his feelings, but allowed himself to look. And look he did as Dean made his way through the lounge with three cups of hot apple cider.

At first, Castiel had been apprehensive, wondering how Dean would behave in such a posh environment. Dean turned out to be a perfect gentleman, opening doors for him and Alfie and politely conversing with anyone who approached them. He was obviously uncomfortable, however, so Castiel kept him close and made excuses for him when his admirers got a little too predatory. There was quite a bit of envy going around, that much was for certain, and Castiel was shocked by how much he enjoyed being at the center of it. He began calling Dean his "boy toy" in private talk, just to annoy him and see him blush.

Once on the course, Castiel was actually very glad that Dean had talked him into coming along; Castiel's partner in the foursome turned out to be very boring and preferred talking with his friend when Alfie wasn't, so Cass indulged himself in Dean's company. Dean was in one of his inquisitive moods again, but Castiel wasn't bothered as much this time around. Half the time, he was explaining the game to Dean anyway. Until,

"Cass?" Dean handed him his driver. "Do you ever wish people would stop calling you a White Tiger?" Castiel hesitated before taking the club.

"I suppose, but mostly I just don't care what people think." Okay, so he was a little bothered by everyone's prejudiced attitude toward his stringent lifestyle, but he was mostly used to it by now. Dean gave him a look that said he could see right through him, but kept his mouth shut as he stepped back to let Castiel swing. The ball swerved to the left and didn't even land in the fairway. They waited for the others to tee off before heading out to the rough to find the ball. When Cass asked for his 7 Iron, Dean withheld it.

"Cass…"

"Look, Dean. I've always been the weird kid and I always will be as long as I stay here. Ergo I'll be more than happy to leave in a few months. Until then, I've accepted my fate, so I just try to keep my head down." Dean gave him a meaningful look.

"Don't ever put your head down, Cass. To anyone." Dean's tone was very serious, but a small half-smile soon crept onto his face. "And there's nothing wrong with being weird. You of all people should know that 'weird' is not a negative term; it's technically impartial." Castiel never failed to be impressed by Dean's random gems of unconventional wisdom.

"You speak so pretty now, Dean, I think I'm rubbing off on you," he teased, but was nonetheless grateful for his friend's support.

Dean threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah," he agreed distantly. The other boy shyly turned his smile away, gazing out into the landscape, but it wasn't long before his expression became grave again. He rubbed his nose against the cold and looked directly back at Castiel.

"You're different, buddy," he concluded, "and that's nothing to be ashamed of." Finally, he handed the iron over to Castiel.

The ball landed perfectly on the green, right next to the flag.

Castiel did well overall, but after firm handshakes with the other half of their foursome, he had to console his brother, who was worrying over what their father would say when he found out that Alfie had scored four points above par*. Dean patted Alfie on the shoulder and Cass handed them both some cocoa.

"Don't sweat it little man, these things happen. It's just one game." Alfie shook his head.

"No, I usually play much better than that. I should have done better. Now Father will think that I am not practicing."

"So…" Dean contemplated, "tell him that the fairways were a little messed up from the weather. It _is_ almost winter, after all."

"But Castiel played well, as usual," Alfie pointed out.

"That's only because the new caddy's got the hots for him and changed his score when no one else was looking." Dean winked at the nervous boy. Castiel smirked at Dean's method of trying to cheer Alfie up but didn't stop to consider what Dean had actually said. Dean was just being silly, as usual. They suddenly heard laughter behind them.

"I thought that was you, Winchester. I wasn't sure at first, you look so…polished." They turned to find Guy, the school's newspaper editor, standing behind them looking smug as he pulled on his left-hand glove** over an expensive wristwatch. Castiel narrowed his eyes at the boy. Guy's parents were wealthy politicians, but their family's fortune was small compared to that of the Novak parents and siblings combined. Guy had been one of the many students who had tried to win Castiel over for the benefit of having an incredibly rich friend. And, like the other students, he had turned away when Castiel explained that his family had a strict "work hard, no parties" rule.

Guy spoke only to Dean as he sniggered, "I never expected to find you at _this_ kind of club. And since when did you start hanging out with the Novaks? Or rather, since when did they get down from their thrones long enough to _let_ you hang around?" Dean looked like he was about to say something colorful but Castiel cut him off.

"I had a slight shoulder injury and needed someone to carry my bag," he said coolly. "Dean said he could use the extra cash." Guy's eyes sparkled and he nudged Dean, who was completely bewildered by Cass' story.

"Oh I get it. Getting' buddy-buddy with the big money, huh?"

Now Dean looked downright angry, and Castiel wasn't sure if he was part of the cause.

"Hey, man. It's not like that—"

"No, no, I totally get it, Winchester. Smart move on your part." Guy winked conspiratorially.

Castiel himself was furious, but he refused to show it. He just wanted this asshole to leave as soon as possible, and without doing damage to Dean's reputation. Dean deserved better; Castiel couldn't bring him down and make him a Nobody like himself.

"Oh hey, Tiger Cub, how are you doing?" Guy had turned his attention on Alfie. "What, no nerd meeting today? Or are you just hanging around to sniff out some letters of rec for your Harvard app? Or was it Yale. Princeton? Heck, knowing your family, you'll go ahead and do all three. God knows you've got the money for it."

Alfie gripped one of the iron clubs in his bag and Dean looked ready to use his bare hands, but Castiel quickly took out his wallet and blurted out abruptly, "Thank you for your help today, Winchester. I hope this is enough for your trouble." He took out several twenties and pushed them into Dean's hands. Dean stopped and his eyes softened in surprise and confusion.

"Cass… You're not paying me—"

"Enough?" he finished for him. "I suppose you're right." He handed Dean another twenty and quickly put the now-empty wallet away so Dean couldn't give it back.

"Wha—?"

"And if you don't mind, it's _Castiel_. Don't be lazy, Dean," he scolded.

"But, I-I never…" Dean stammered, and Castiel's heart broke. He wished he didn't have to be so distant toward the other boy. To turn him away.

Guy chuckled and said, "Dude, that's eighty bucks. Just run with it, before he changes his mind."

"He's right, you should leave," Castiel agreed, though he very much wanted Dean to stay. "My brother and I must be going now, we don't have time to dawdle like you do. Thank you for your services, they were most useful."

"Fine," Dean gritted out, crumpling the money in a tight fist. "Call me if you need anything else. Or if you want to stop acting like an ass."

Cass kept a cold gaze on Dean, internally wishing for some alternate world where they could be friends.

"Don't hold your breath," Guy snorted.

Dean said nothing but thrust Castiel's golf bag back to him and stormed out of he club. Castiel allowed himself to stare after him longingly for a few seconds before grabbing Alfie's arm and leading him away as well.

"Castiel! Why did you—?" He avoided Alfie's confounded expression and slammed the car door. "Let's go home, Alfie. You need to practice your violin." With that, they drove away, leaving Dean by his Impala to stare after them.

Castiel didn't see Dean until after the break.

* * *

A/N: If you were surprised that Alfie seemed so ready to stand up for himself despite being a nerd, I would like to point out that he is also a swimmer; he's not exactly weak. And Samandriel was a soldier of god (albeit an adorable one) who didn't strike me as the type to back down easily, especially after his bidding war and torture sessions with Crowley.

* * *

*In golf, you want the score to be as low as possible, since you're tallying each stroke it takes to sink the ball in the hole. Below par would make for a very happy golfer, indeed.

**Many golfers wear gloves for grip and to protect their hands from blisters. It is common to wear just one, but some wear gloves on both hands.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I might not be able to post tomorrow, so here's another post today. I realize this is a long story, so thanks for hanging in there, troopers.

More or less from Sam's POV.

* * *

Dean was a mess. For ten days now, he had gotten into a sad routine that involved watching _Dr. Sexy, MD_ and eating pie all day, when he wasn't at work or school. He'd also been averaging a couple beers a night, and even when Bobby Singer yelled at him for it, his habits remained undeterred. Sam knew very well that Dean hadn't had any alcohol in the house since the first week of school. He also knew why his brother had started again.

"Dean, stop being a girl and go talk to him."

"Can it, bitch."

"Jerk. Seriously, you've been in a pissy mood for over a week. I know Cass was a douchebag, but if that creep was there, maybe he had a reason."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Dean's tone was clipped, indicating that he didn't want to discuss it.

"You'll never know unless you talk to him," Sam sighed. He'd been putting up with Dean's crap ever since that day at the country club. Dean had come home fuming about how Castiel had treated him like dirt despite the fact that he had been trying to defend him and his brother from that asshole, Guy. Sam just didn't get it; it wasn't like Cass at all. He tried talking to Alfie about it, but Alfie was just as bewildered by the incident and couldn't get his brother to explain. In a week, Dean's mood went from angry to sullen and depressed, with little hope for improvement. Even their dad had noticed that something was wrong when he came home for Thanksgiving dinner. And when he left again the next day, Dean blamed himself for driving John away, thus making his self-esteem sink even lower. It always distressed Sam greatly to see his big brother act like this.

"Dean, the first draft of your article is really great. You should show it to Cass; I think he'll appreciate what you have to say about him." Dean set down his beer and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"He'll probably be angry that I didn't get his consent. I mean, I used our time at the golf course to interview him and he didn't even know! God, I'm so stupid, I should have asked him first."

"You're not stupid, Dean. You're trying to make a difference at school! You want to prove to everyone that people who are different can be cool right? Just tell him that, and I'm sure he'll be flattered that you chose him. It's not too late to ask for his blessing."

"Yeah, but…I dunno. He was just…so cold, Sam. Like I was beneath him. And let's face it: I am."

Sam wanted to slam his head on the coffee table. Repeatedly.

"No, you're not Dean. And Cass knows that, too! If you're worried that he doesn't, then you'd better find out for sure, right? Just. Go. Talk to him."

"God… you're right, Sammy, Dean groaned. "He didn't even come over on Friday. I know it was right after Thanksgiving and all, but he didn't send a message or anything and that just made me feel so…so…"

"Hurt? Betrayed? Lonely?"

"Hell, I don't know. But I guess I should find him tomorrow and see what's up." Sam thanked the Lord above and tried not to roll his eyes.

"You do that, Dean."

Since the baseball team had moved into the gym for weight training until season began again in March, Dean no longer had to report to practice immediately after class, giving him time to look around the school for Castiel once the bell rang. Normally the brothers walked to the gym together, since Sam trained with the track team, but that day he had instead pushed Dean in the direction of the library. Alfie, who was also anxious for Dean and Castiel to get back together, had told them that Castiel often tutored there after school.

However, at this particular moment, Sam wished that he'd had his brother by his side. After attending C. Shurley High for nearly two months, Sam had started to think that he wouldn't have any problems with this school's football team. He never should have let down his guard.

The lockers met his back violently. Brady held him up high by the collar of his shirt and, though winded, he could see the last wave of students pass through the hallway to collect their items before heading home. Some of them stopped and stared, but none came to help.

"Just because I was nice to you once and helped you find your math class doesn't mean I'm gonna let a little creep like you go after all the hot girls on campus."

Sam and Jess, a sophomore cheerleader, had worked on an assignment together in class, and apparently the football team had gotten the wrong impression. Sam hadn't targeted her at all; she had smiled at him and asked if he could help her. Jess was the nicest girl he'd ever met.

"Look, kid," Rosco jabbed a finger in his face. "We already gave you a warning not to try any funny business, but I guess nerds like you aren't so smart after all, huh?"

The jock punched him in the gut and Brady let him fall to the ground, coughing. Sam could see about a dozen pairs of shoes facing him from several yards away as a small crowd of students gathered around to watch. Before he could get up, Dick stepped in and backhanded him across the face.

"You're gonna be a good boy from now on, aren't ya, kiddo?" Dick said with a cruel smile.

Sam tried twisting away but was caught by Rosco and Brady, who began wailing on him. They laughed coldly as he shriveled into a ball to protect his organs. Sam could fight off one guy, maybe even two. But three massive football players were too much for the fourteen-year-old. Sam was in pain. A lot of pain. He was bruised and bleeding, but the blows were so relentless he no longer knew exactly where on his body he was hurting. Probably everywhere.

Then, the beating stopped.

Sam opened his eyes to find Rosco on the ground a few feet away holding a bloody nose. He heard the harsh impact of skin on skin and turned around to find a dark-haired boy rearranging Brady's face with his fists. Brady collapsed, and as he slid away clutching his eye and jaw, Dick tackled Castiel to the floor with an elbow to the other boy's stomach. When the jock got up and Castiel came back into view, Sam saw that he was grasping his midsection, his arm wobbling as he pushed himself up. Now Dick and Rosco were both advancing on him. Sam desperately tried to call out, perhaps cry for help, but his throat was too dry. Besides, he doubted his raspy voice would be audible over the throng of students shouting and calling for blood.

Sam was momentarily relieved when a new figure ran in and jumped on Dick, but Rosco quickly pulled that kid off and threw him to the ground, bashing his head against the tile. Oh god.

It was Dean.

Dean unsteadily got back up and prepared to charge at the other boys again, but Castiel moved forward first, reaching out and pushing Dean behind him. Dick grabbed Castiel by the neck and threw him against the lockers. He dealt the smaller boy a few blows before he was rushed by Dean and wrestled to the floor. Once Dean managed to get on top, he sat on Dick's chest and began raining his fists down on the boy's face. Even through a swelling eye, Sam could easily see the magnitude of Dean's rage.

"STAY. THE FUCK. AWAY. FROM MY. FAMILY." Dean roared, punctuating each word with a punch. Then he was lifted by the waist and pulled away. Dean scrambled to get his feet back on the ground and back to Dick, whom Rosco was now bringing to his feet. He clawed for release at the arm encasing him and screamed at the football players, "IF YOU EVER TOUCH MY KID BROTHER AGAIN I'LL KILL YOU."

"Dean. Let it go," Castiel grunted.

With difficulty, he hauled Dean away inch by inch. Dean stopped struggling a little, but only to twist in Castiel's grip and growl, "Let me go. Now."

Cass just shook his head. "We need to get your brother to the nurse," he reasoned as he set Dean down, his arms still wrapped around him and clutching at Dean's dirtied, green jacket.

Dean finally stopped wriggling and nodded bitterly. Satisfied, Cass liberated him, and he rushed to Sam's side to assess the damage. Sam noticed that Dean's eyes were shining with tears of anger, and assured his brother that he would be okay.

Castiel turned to the crowd of students watching. "There's nothing to see here," he snapped.

He hadn't raised his voice much, but the audience fled at his dangerous tone. Sam smiled a little in amusement until Dean picked him up and began hurrying to the nurse's office with Castiel at his side. He noticed that the older boy's left cheekbone was cut and beginning to bruise, and blood dripped generously from his nose onto his beige sweater. Castiel didn't seem to care.

They reached the nurse's office in record time. She immediately had Sam lay on the examination bed and began assessing his injuries. Dean hovered over him, staring in shock at the damage revealed when Sam lifted up his shirt.

"Dean, don't be a helicopter," Sam said dryly. His voice was weak and he was in pain, but it wasn't like he'd never been beaten up before. He'd be back to normal in a week or two, but that didn't stop Dean's fretting. His brother kept trying to clean him up, muttering that he was "going to kill the bastards." Finally, the nurse shooed him away and he had nothing else to do but fuss over Castiel. Sam gave the teen a small, sympathetic smile but he just shrugged back.

Typical Dean –always the caretaker. As the nurse checked for broken bones, Sam watched the two older boys through heavy eyes.

Castiel was now seated with tissues stuffed up his nose while Dean was wiping away the blood with wet paper towels from the small sink. Castiel did nothing but stare at him with affection and admiration, and Sam wondered how Dean could ever think that the blue-eyed boy didn't care for him. Dean didn't notice his unwavering gaze, however. Entirely focused on his work, he crouched and tenderly pressed at Cass' midsection, asking if he felt any pain.

Castiel smiled softly and shook his head, then took the First Aid kit from the counter behind him. He reached around and began tending to a spot high on the back of Dean's head, where the skin had split against the tiled floor.

Now it was Dean's turn to ogle the boy in front of him.

"You have kind hands," he murmured, staring up at Castiel.

"Excuse me?" Cass stopped his administrations and his eyes flickered to Dean's. Dean blushed and tried to clarify.

"It just…feels like you really care." He bit his lip and added, "You'll make a great doctor."

Castiel resumed bandaging his head and smirked.

"Thank you. I'm not terribly interested in being a doctor, but thank you all the same."

It was obvious that Dean wanted to press Cass further about that statement, but to Sam's surprise, he didn't; he just continued looking up into the other boy's face. Sam leaned back and sighed inwardly. They would be just fine. And it was nice having Castiel as a friend. He'd been around bullies before, the kind who beat you up just for looking at them funny, and it always helped to have around the kind of people who were willing to try and stop them.

A few minutes later and Sam drifted off into the easiest sleep he'd had in the last eleven days.

* * *

A/N: My mom keeps trying to sneak glances at my computer like she expects to catch me looking at _Busty Asian Beauties_. It's kind of annoying, and I have to pull up Facebook over my writing every time she comes near. Anyone else have nosy housemates?

P.S. When Dean tells Dick to "stay away," he uses "family" for a reason.

Just a thought.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thanks for your patience, and to the Anons for the reviews. ;]

I sort of got writer's block for earlier, so I pulled a Dean -I sat on the porch with a personal-sized cherry pie and listened to classic rock and country music for a while. Happiness is. This chapter still feels a little awkward to me, but it's got dicks, a little fluff, and a major revelation. And Disney, of course.

* * *

Cass and Dean became Cass-and-Dean again, but once again had to keep it under the radar. Castiel had missed the Winchesters more than he ever expected to during the two-week hiatus, and he didn't think he could manage separation again. Still, he had jeopardized Dean at the golf course, and he would have to be prepared for a second time, should there be one.

Of course the next occasion actually only took a few days to come around, when he was approached by Dick, Guy and Zach in the library.

Dick admitted that, as much as he wanted to finish what they'd started, he couldn't touch Dean; Dean was well-liked enough that if the two engaged in a fight one-on-one, a large portion of the school would side with him over Dick. By default, Sam was also off-limits, since Dean would come after anyone who tried.

This left Castiel.

Castiel was Dean's weakness –both Castiel and Dick knew this. Guy and Zach testified as witnesses to the existence of a relationship; Guy, of course, had seen them together at the golf course, and Zach had seen them through the window in the nurse's office on the day of the fight while on his way to a meeting with the class officers. They had coincidentally gossiped their findings to Dick, and there was no denying by either party that Dean and Castiel had some sort of bond.

This created a loophole in Dean's popularity: if it ever became apparent to the rest of the school that Dean, prom king in the running, and Cass, the pariah, had an association, Dean would fall off the social ladder and become vulnerable to Dick's vengeance. As Dick assured with a sick smile, it was only a matter of time.

And so Castiel was dealing with a very real threat to the only friend he'd ever had.

Castiel knew Dean wanted to openly be friends, but he couldn't allow it for the sake of his safety. And though Dean was no doubt confused by it all, he never asked questions, not even about Castiel's behavior at the golf course. Castiel made up for this by spending more time together outside of school. In addition to the history study sessions, Castiel was now helping Dean with physics and Spanish homework on other weekdays, and Dean offered to teach him about cars. He also insisted that Castiel watch the Disney movies one weekend.

Much to Dean's embarrassment, Sam had told Castiel about how much Dean had missed him before they became friends again. Castiel was shocked to hear that Dean had taken to excessive drinking; he was not worth the trouble.

_"I wasn't drunk," Dean stubbornly protested as his face flushed. Sam scoffed._

_ "Dude, you made the 'Pink Elephants on Parade' look like a sobriety party." It was a curious thing to say, as Castiel didn't understand the reference; he told them so._

_ "Seriously?" Dean exclaimed, half surprised and half anxious to change the topic. "You never watched _Dumbo_?"_

_ "Oh. I'm not very familiar with the Disney movies," Castiel explained._

_ "You're kidding me. That's it. We're having a Disney marathon this weekend; you're in serious need a childhood. You down, Sammy?"_

_ "I don't do clowns, Dean."_

So here they were on a late Saturday morning, with Dean and Castiel on the couch and Sam and Alfie sprawled out on the floor. It had been a little more than a week since the brawl, and Sam was looking much better. He'd gotten several bruised ribs that were still tender, but the damage everywhere else was fading fast and he didn't feel much pain anymore. When Castiel had walked the brothers to the Impala from the nurse's office, Sam had given him a tight hug, effectively expressing both his heartbreak and his gratefulness. At that moment, Castiel knew that Sam was a remarkable, loving boy, and that he had to protect the younger Winchester as much as the elder.

Only, he didn't expect to do so by helping Sam convince Dean not to pull up _Dumbo_ on Netflix. They had instead started off with _Tangled _(during which the other three boys argued that Dean looked like Rapunzel for his large, green eyes and plump lips), and were now watching _Hercules_, to the blonde's relief. Dean was singing along rather enthusiastically with the Muses and had his legs draped over Castiel's lap, with the latter being clad in a pair of Dean's sweatpants. According to the stubborn boy, who himself was dressed in Donald Duck pajama bottoms, jeans were completely inappropriate attire for Saturdays and went against movie marathon rules. At first, Castiel had felt awkward wearing Dean's clothes, but he would be lying if he didn't enjoy the intimacy.

Halfway through the movie, Dean got up and mumbled something about lunch, leaving a suddenly very lonely Castiel behind. As the space beside him grew cold, Castiel tried not to think about how much he wanted Dean to come back and never leave.

Whoa. Where the hell did that come from.

They were just friends –a couple of months ago, they didn't even talk to each other; it was ridiculous of Castiel to feel so needy. As he thought about it, he couldn't explain to himself why he felt that way. Unless…

_"No chance, no way, I won't say it, no, no."_

Oh no.

_"You swoon, you sigh, Why deny it? Uh-oh."_

Oh _hell_ no.

_"It's too cliché, I won't say—"_

Then DON'T.

_"I'm in love."_

Fuck you.

Castiel wondered when that happened –when he fell in love. He looked over into the kitchen where Dean was preparing something at the counter and whistling along with the tune. He did a little dance as he turned to collect plates from the cabinet and, catching Castiel's eye, he shot him a wide grin. Castiel felt his heart rate shoot up and he looked back to the television, not really focusing on the screen anymore.

Damn it, Dean!

Castiel hadn't planned for this. He had expected to finish school, graduate, move east with _absolutely no ties_ beyond family linking him back to Illinois, and press the Start Over button. And now there was Dean. Sure, he'd figured he would possibly develop a crush or two while in high school, as he couldn't fight the biological instincts that attracted him to another person. But those come and go. This? This was a different ballpark –it was the Big Leagues. Most of his life, he had doubted that love truly existed, and now…

Wait. He didn't even know what love was, and hadn't believed in it until now, so how could he be certain that this was what he was really feeling?

"Lunch is served!" Dean set a plate in front of Castiel. It was a cheeseburger.

"Thanks, Princess." Dean narrowed his eyes at Alfie as he thrust the food into his hands.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Ass-butt." The younger boy just snickered at him. He moaned at the first bite of beefy goodness; it was his first burger as well.

Dean sat next to Castiel with his own plate, squirting ketchup onto the open-faced bun. Castiel noticed Dean's stack of ingredients, then looked around at the others' for confirmation. Yep.

Everyone had onions but him.

On the night they had first ordered pizza, Dean had explained to him what other toppings were fairly common besides cheese and pepperoni. Castiel had mentioned that he didn't care for onions. Dean remembered.

"Cass, you're supposed to eat it." Castiel stared at the wonderful boy next to him, fighting the urge to wipe the ketchup from the corner of his mouth. Suddenly his brain stopped working; he felt overloaded from all the affection.

"You made this for me?" he asked dumbly. Dean rolled his eyes and laughed.

"No, I made it for my health. Duh! I told you that you had to try hamburgers someday, remember? So try it!" He nudged Castiel with his elbow and took another bite of his meal. Castiel carefully closed the bun and, after a moment's mental preparation, dove in. It was delicious. Luckily, Dean had made plenty; Castiel wolfed down the first one and was soon on his second.

"These make me very happy," he smiled as he took another large bite. Dean chuckled and took a sip from Castiel's can of Pepsi.

"I figured."

After they finished lunch and Castiel helped Dean with the dishes, they settled back on the couch with their tummies full (YES I said 'tummies.' Bite me.) and in a very good mood despite the winter chill. As Sam put in _The Rescuers_, Dean passed out blankets and hot chocolate with candy canes in each mug. There were only three blankets, so he and Castiel had to share.

As they curled up, a little closer than before, Castiel decided that he didn't mind.

He didn't mind love at all.

"Would you mind if we stayed the night?"

"Wh-what?" Dean looked at him, confounded.

"Is it okay if Alfie and I stay the night?" Castiel reiterated. Dean sunk back into the cushions, his eyes still wide and dazed.

"Yeah, sure…whatever you want." A moment later and a huge grin spread across his face.

"What do you think, Alfie?"

"Huh?"

"Dean says we can stay the night." Sam looked ready to jump over the moon with excitement, but he also eyed Alfie with the slightest bit of apprehension.

"B-but we have church tomorrow! And I have to practice my violin for at least two hours and—"

"They've seen enough of us to last a lifetime; they can go one day without. And as for your musical education," Castiel pointed at the television, "I'm making an executive decision to continue it through the Winchester Method. So shut up and watch."

The sun could not shine as radiantly as Alfie's smile at that moment.

* * *

A/N: Don't think dirty thoughts. It's just a typical sleepover with the usual hair-braiding and Satanic rituals. Besides, Dean and Castiel don't quite know yet that the other loves him.

For those who make hot chocolate using those crappy little "Just Add Hot Water" packets like I do, I find peppermint makes it much more enjoyable.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Some more Profound Bond-ing time. I feel like my writing is lacking lately, but I'm not sure if it's the place in the story or because of my mood/tiredness. Sorry. I hope this chapter is at least a little fun.

* * *

Dean really had to pee.

Like, _really_ had to pee.

Damn. It always worked this way –just when a guy finds a decent hiding spot, he has to relieve himself. Of course. And it didn't help that he was in the bathroom with the toilet literally five feet away, taunting him.

"Twenty-nine, thirty. Ready . . ." Cass paused. "What am I supposed to say?"

Dean groaned.

"READY OR NOT, HERE I COME," he called to the clueless boy downstairs.

"I'm confused. I thought I was supposed to find you," Cass answered back. Dean rolled his eyes.

"JUST COME AND FIND US."

He could hear Castiel rummaging around downstairs, probably out of courtesy, since Dean had already given away his general position.

Dean was still giddy that Castiel was finally willing to stay over (on purpose). And because it was such a special occasion, Dean had promised to make this the best sleepover the Novaks could ever have, in order to make up for years of lost childhood. So, once _The Rescuers_ had finished, Dean had proposed a game of Hide-and-Seek; they needed a break from the television anyway, they were starting to see spots.

Dean held his breath as he heard footsteps climbing the staircase. He anxiously peered around the shower curtain and through the open door to the hallway. There were a few moments of silence . . . and then a yelp.

"Creep! You scared me!"

"Everything scares you, Ass-butt."

Apparently Castiel had found Alfie. Thank god. Dean could finally pee.

They played several more rounds into the afternoon, and no, Dean did not blush when he bumped noses with Castiel in a dark closet behind a rack of clothes. And no, the boys did not start giggling from nearly scaring the living daylights out of each other. And Dean _definitely_ did _not_, under any circumstances, accidentally grope Castiel when he tried to climb out of the small, crowded space. As much as he wanted to stay in the closet and do more exciting things with the blue-eyed boy, he doubted that his friend would welcome it, so he muttered some excuses and an apology and ran to another room.

It didn't take long for the boys to run out of hiding spots, so they returned to their Disney marathon, starting with _The Lion King_. At the end of the movie Dean surprised Alfie by holding up the smaller boy Rafiki-style during the reprise of "The Circle of Life." They then searched Netflix for more suggestions, which was when Castiel asked what _Mulan_ was about. Dean scolded him with "Dishonor! Dishonor on you and your cow!" –The Girl Who Saved China was Dean's favorite Disney heroine. Castiel asked teasingly if it had anything to do with his "Oriental preferences," and Dean flushed tomato red, remembering when Castiel had once found an "exotic" porn magazine in his car, which he had quickly tried to hide from the other boy for the sake of his (supposed) purity. At Alfie and Sam's roaring laughter, Dean took to chasing Castiel all around the bottom floor of the house with a broom, which he and Sam later used while singing along with "Make A Man Out of You."

That was when Alfie told him, "Nice try, Princess, but if you want to prove something, a musical number is not the way to go." Dean nailed him with a pillow.

By the time _Mulan_ was finished, it was 6:30 in the evening and everyone had a sudden craving for Chinese take-out. To Dean and Alfie's annoyance, Sam insisted that they order vegetables, too, and when the food arrived, Castiel made sure they actually ate them.

Next was _Aladdin_ because, Dean argued, it had one of the best love songs of all time. He also tried to point out that Robin Williams was hilarious, but Sam kept wiggling his eyebrows at him for the "love songs" comment. He threw his brother a Limited Edition of Sam's own Bitch Face No. 8, but couldn't help playing the Magic Carpet scene twice before continuing with the rest of the story; the first to watch Cass' reaction to the beautiful animation and lyrics, and the second time to dramatically sing them out to the blue-eyed boy as both the Aladdin and Jasmine parts. Sam and Alfie gave him identical versions of Bitch Face No. 23 for it, but Dean ignored their raised eyebrows. He enjoyed amusing Cass with his performance, and reveled even more in the boy's faint blush.

Dean sort of wished that his life was a musical, where any emotion or desire could be expressed by breaking into song and having the person you love join in, because it was just that easy.

But he had learned long ago that life was not a fairytale.

For the rest of the film, they had a very serious debate: what was the best way to eat an Oreo? Dean thought peanut butter was the best thing accompaniment to chocolate; Sam agreed but admitted that he needed milk to wash it all down. Alfie was in favor of the traditional milk and cookies combo, and Cass liked orange juice with his Oreos. This earned strange looks all around. However, never one to back down from a challenge, Dean got the boys up and drove them to the supermarket to get all the necessary ingredients for a trial. The verdict was that Castiel's idea was actually not that bad, but everyone agreed that he had his own preferences.

With that conclusion (and a few yawns), the boys decided on camping in the living room. Of course, this meant that Dean got his bed sheets and created a giant fort in front of the TV for them to sleep under. Armed with the blankets from earlier, and fluffy pillows and comforters from the Winchesters' beds, the boys at last settled down for the night with their last movie.

The younger boys only managed to watch the first ten minutes of _Treasure Planet_ before they passed out. Soon after, Cass retrieved from the fridge two cans of whipped cream he had gotten at the store and handed one to Dean.

"What's this?"

Castiel got back under the covers next to him and undid the safety seal. "I don't care much for alcohol, so whenever I'm having a bad day or just want to de-stress, I get drunk on one of these." He quickly shook the can and sprayed a swirl into his mouth. The action was so abrupt and out of character, Dean began giggling madly behind his hand, trying not to wake the sleeping boys.

"I think it's a better alternative to beer," Cass shrugged with a grin, which Dean mimicked. He popped his head back and filled his own mouth with a large puff of sweet cream.

They continued watching the film in comfortable silence, growing drowsy from the late hour of the night. At a tense moment where John Silver had to comfort Jim Hawkins for an accident that wasn't his fault, Dean felt the dull ache in his chest that he always got during this scene.

"I've always had a soft spot for this movie," he muttered. "I know it's really different from the book, but I always liked how Jim turned out." Castiel said nothing, just listened.

"Everyone thinks that he's a delinquent, but really he's just confused and misunderstood. And you can tell that he's smart, that he _could_ do amazing things. It's just that he's been hurt. His dad abandoned him, and he always wonders why he couldn't make him stay. Wonders if he's the one who made his dad want to leave. But even after all he's been through, he pulls out of it and proves himself. In the end, he makes something of himself. I wish I could be like that."

He knew that he and Jim had their similarities. Left behind by their father and often looked down on in society, they had the same broken heart. But this wasn't Dean's story in the end. He didn't have much of a future; he would probably be a mechanic for the rest of his life and maybe raise a family. Truthfully, he didn't mind too much –just as long as he could give his brother what he deserved, and Sam deserved the world. He was the smart one. He was a good person and the kid everyone loved. Sam had "the makings of greatness" in him, so Dean was prepared to work his butt of to make sure that his kid brother got his Disney ending.

He vaguely noticed Cass turn toward him, but kept his tired eyes on the screen. "Jim doesn't amount to much in the beginning because he doesn't believe that he is worth it. But he is . . . and so are you."

Dean could have scoffed at Castiel for trying to make him feel better; he already knew there was no point in reaching for something that wasn't meant to be. Instead he lazily nodded to appease Cass and let his eyelids droop, sleep quickly overcoming him. As he stood on the delicate border of consciousness, about to dive into the familiar, swirling darkness, he felt his body be laid to a supine position and covered with the duvet. Contentedly, he slipped away.

"You're gonna rattle the stars, Dean."

* * *

A/N: "You got the makings of greatness in you, but you got to take the helm and chart your own course. Stick to it, no matter the squalls! And when the time comes you get the chance to really test the cut of your sails, and show what you're made of! Well, I hope I'm there, catching some of the light coming off you that day."


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Sorry for the delay. My Internet went out so I couldn't update, but this is a long, fluffy chapter to make up for it. Perhaps a little gratuitous, but I had fun. I went kayaking the other day and saw some adorable sea lions acting like puppies, so I was in playful mood when I wrote this afterward.

* * *

"Dean."

Go away.

"Dean." A large hand gently rubbed his shoulder.

No.

"Dean," the soft voice continued. "Wake up." The hand moved again, lovingly stroking his arm.

No…?

"Dean, I made apple-cinnamon pancakes," the voice coaxed. "De—aah!"

Dean's arms shot out and grasped the body leaning over him, pulling it down into a tight embrace.

"Uh…" Castiel tried to get up, but Dean just rolled them over and buried his face in the boy's neck, cooing into the warm skin.

"You're the best, Cass, you really are and I don't deserve you and I will be your kept man and I'll do anything you want oh god you're amazing you have no idea—"

"Dean! _Dean!_"

Dean grinned as Castiel laughed and kicked aimlessly, tickled by the breath on his sensitive skin.

"That's a little _too_ precious."

"I could vomit."

The older boys stopped their romping and looked up to find their brothers standing over them with Bitch Face No. 14 on. Alfie was holding up his phone, no doubt recording a video. Dean pulled a face at the camera and threw a leg over Castiel's hip, binding the flustered boy octopus-style. He happily nuzzled behind Castiel's ear, smiling when he earned a tiny shiver in return.

"Dean, as much as I appreciate the affection, the food is getting cold."

Dean abruptly stood up with his comforter covering his head and shoulders, and waddled into the kitchen. He set the table as Castiel went around dumping steamy, heavenly-smelling pancakes onto each plate. Once finished, Dean ambushed the other boy by wrapping the blanket around him from behind, securely trapping Cass in the downy prison. Dean rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Can I keep you?"

"I thought you were supposed to be _my_ kept man."

"Whatever. As long as you stay forever" Cass laughed and was about to retort but Sam interrupted.

"_Please tell me you guys aren't doing anything under there_." Dean shot his brother a seductive grin and bit his bottom lip.

"Maybe." He pulled the cover completely overhead but was startled by Cass, who immediately started moaning loudly in the dark.

"Mmm, Dean! Right there, oh god! _Oh_, do it again! That's it! _Dean!_"

"Cass!" Dean gasped, catching on. "Cass! _Nngghh_, you're amazing, ah! _Aaagghh_, Cass!"

Eventually they let out long, satisfied moans and came up for air with their hair sufficiently messy and clothes rumpled. The boys took their seats, wildly grinning at their thoroughly disturbed brothers. They had just been playing around, but Dean kept the blanket wrapped around him to hide a very real reaction –he had once again been caught off-guard by the wicked side of Cass.

Halfway through breakfast, Castiel got a text from his brother Gabriel saying that he was hung over, which meant that Cass had to open up the shop. Dean offered to come along and keep him company, since he didn't have to go to work that day.

Once they had cleaned up, they put on their winter coats and hopped into the Impala, where Cass noticed a couple library books lying on the floor of the passenger seat.

"_The Sirens of Titan _and _Breakfast of Champions?_"

"Oh, yeah. Figured I would re-read them over Winter Break." He frowned. "The librarian was surprised to see me. I think most people forget I can read."

"It's a shame they don't realize how intelligent you are."

Cass examined the books and mused, "The school doesn't seem to emphasize reading Vonnegut, not like they do Shakespeare and Steinbeck and Dickens." Dean smirked, having noticed the same observation.

"That's probably because Vonnegut explores fatalism and free will, and teachers don't want students to get ideas." Castiel laughed.

"I would take anything over Dickens. I've read _so much Dickens, _thanks to school. Why not Jane Austen? If I could write an analysis of _Persuasion_ instead, I would die happy." Dean chuckled at the nerd's mini-rant and mouthed _"What?"_ Cass shrugged with a carefree smile.

They soon reached _Tricks and Treats_, where they mostly sat around and talked, as there weren't many customers on a Sunday morning. Castiel explained that Gabriel normally didn't open shop on Sunday, but it was getting close to Christmas and a lot of kids liked to get joke gifts for their friends. Dean didn't mind; he got to spend more time with his best friend, and it was a nice change of scenery after being cooped up in the house all day. Even Sammy and Alfie had called up Kevin to hang out at the mall.

By noon, there had only been two visitors to the store and Dean was sitting on the counter with a Nerds Rope candy hanging out his mouth, listening to Cass talk about the holidays at his family's house. Apparently, they were a rather solemn, religious affair, so he was grateful to have celebrated with Gabriel the last two years. That was when they saw a cherry red car pull up, and put their plan into action. One boy dropped below the counter, rummaging through the cabinets underneath, while the other ducked into the back office.

A minute later, Gabriel Novak entered the shop on tiptoe. As quietly as he could, he approached the counter and, seeing that his brother was occupied, he slowly crept up behind him and—

"Gotcha–_aaahh!_"

"Not this time!"

"_AAAGGGHHHH!_"

Gabriel threw himself back against the wall and slid to the floor, holding his hand over his heart. It was Dean he had tried to scare, and when he realized that he had snuck up on a stranger, Castiel jumped out at him from behind and they both covered him in Silly String.

"I've been shot," Gabriel said weakly, picking at the mess on his jacket. He looked up at the other boys, who were giggling at his expense. Gabe stood up, eyes narrowed. "You little bastards . . . I'm so proud!" He pulled Castiel into a hug and gave him a noogie. "Didn't know you had it in ya, Jimmy!" Dean frowned.

"Jimmy?"

Castiel shoved his brother away and tried to smooth his hair, which was impossible since his hair naturally defied chastity. Ahem, gravity.

"Castiel James Novak," he clarified. "Gabe sometimes likes to use my middle name because he describes my first as—"

"Holier than thou and stick up the ass," Gabriel finished with a dignified nod.

"Fitting, but a bit of a mouthful. I just call him Cass," Dean said with a cocky grin. Castiel shot him a dark look.

"Speaking of up Castiel's ass," Gabriel said, taking out his phone, "you must be Dean."

"_Gabriel!_ Dean is—" Castiel began to protest, but Gabe showed him a photo text from "Sender: Alfie." It showed Castiel, no more than a tuft of dark hair peeping out from under a pile of blanket, and Dean half-curled around him, half-draped over him, pillowing his head on Cass' midsection. They looked like a couple of puppies. Or like a couple.

"…obligated to first ask me for your hand before you start picking out curtains," Gabriel finished. He winked at Dean, who blushed but said nothing. Castiel threw his hands up in defeat with a roll of his eyes.

"Although, if he's going to start off 'Meet the Parents' with a prank, then he's already got my blessing. But we'll discuss wedding plans later."

Gabriel removed his coat with a flourish and waltzed into his office. Moments later, Beyonce's "Love On Top" blasted through the crack in the door. Dean shook his head with a smile.

"I kinda like him. You keep saying how strict your family is, but so far it's two-for-two."

"Give it a second."

"Hey Jimmy!" Gabe yelled from his office. "Pops called and said you and Alfie are going to Chicago for Christmas. Apparently you've got lots to talk about." Dean's eyes widened as Castiel began banging his head on the counter, muttering.

"No. No, no, no, no, noooo." Cass chanted, his face pressed against the surface. "What's the point of being on holiday if he's just going to hound me about my applications? Arguing about personal statements doesn't exactly spell Christmas Cheer. Can't he ever just give me a break and _trust me?_ God damn it!"

"I think he also wants to talk about your boyfriend," Gabe added with an obviously smug tone.

"The hell? I've never even talked about the Winchesters to him! And what? I get a friend and suddenly the whole family has to know my business?" Dean warmed at the fact that Castiel referred to him as his friend –as far as he knew, it was the first time the other boy had ever said it aloud.

"That _is_ Dad's business –he knows everything." Castiel slammed his hand down against the counter.

"Well he needs to back the fuck off!" he growled. He turned to Dean, who was staring wide-eyed at the boy who was usually so calm, so collected.

"What," he huffed.

"I didn't think you swore." Castiel perked up with interest, his eyebrows raised and his demeanor completely changed with Dean's comment.

"Really? Huh. I normally swear like a sailor…in my head, at least." Dean smiled at the newly offered information. Castiel sighed.

"I apologize for my behavior."

"No, it's fine! I get it. Family can be really…stressful." Cass scoffed.

"You've no idea."

For his friend's sake, Dean eagerly switched topics, eying Gabe's car.

"Isn't there some statistic that proves cops are more likely to pull over red cars than any other color?" Castiel smirked.

"Yes, but people generally infer a stupid conclusion from it."

_Here we go,_ Dean thought.

"How so?" he said.

"The color red has a long history of connotations. Generally people see it as dramatic and attention-grabbing, which explains its purpose in bullfighting –although that's ludicrous as well; cattle are colorblind."

Dean waved his hand in a _carry on_ motion.

"Anyway, people assume that the color provokes the policeman. They forget about who is driving; red is a very bold color, but it also takes a very bold person to choose it. If Gabriel and I switched cars, who do you think would be pulled over?" Dean raised his eyebrows as if to say, _Huh._

"I sure do hope you're boning him, Dean," Gabe appeared at the door, sucking on a Ring Pop. "Baby Bro sure as hell ain't gonna get laid by anyone else with that mouth of his." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cass.

"Nah, I'm sure there are a few people who would find it…useful," he said in a deliberately slimy way. Castiel affected a deeply disturbed look.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. "I've seen the way people look at you." He winked at the other boy, ignoring the pang of jealousy that came with the truth of that statement. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Suddenly I'm Mr. Sex," he said sarcastically. Dean knew the blue-eyed boy didn't believe that others found him attractive.

Gabriel stared at his brother thoughtfully for a moment. "He's actually got a point. I think you _are_ getting prettier as you grow older."

"Thank god it's heading in the direction of progress, I suppose," Cass said dryly, though a little shyly from the compliment.

"Yeah, well, it couldn't really go the other way any more," Gabe quipped. "Now shut up, you Lovebirds, this is my jam." Gabriel put the Ring Pop on his finger and began sashaying his hips as "Single Ladies" came on. He moved out into the middle of the shop for more space and began full-out dancing all the steps, though somewhat awkwardly. Dean rolled his eyes mockingly.

"Move over."

He nudged Gabe to the side and joined in, his movements much more fluid and sexier. Dean lit up as Cass tried to stifle a low giggle.

"What?" he shouted over the song with a smile.

"You don't strike me as a dancer…or a Beyoncé fan," Castiel tilted his head in his usual, adorable way. Dean shrugged without missing a beat.

"I just like good music –it's not my fault that most of it is classic rock. As for dancing, it's just fun. I kinda got hooked when I watched _Newsies_ as a kid; it was my favorite movie. I can do the entire routine for 'Seize the Day.'"

"Well this is a surprise."

Everyone stopped what he was doing and spun around; they hadn't noticed the customer enter the store. Charlie stood with her hands on her hips and a cheeky grin plastered across her face. Dean blushed with embarrassment and awkwardly waved. "Oh, hey Charlie. W-what are you doing here?"

"It's a joke shop, I ordered Whoopi-Cushions: I'm here to collect."

"Oh." Dean laughed nervously. Charlie sent him a knowing wink before turning her attention to the others in the room.

"Hi Castiel. We haven't formally met; I'm Charlie, a junior at school. Dean's swooned a lot over you." Castiel cocked an eyebrow at Dean, who was sending Charlie a death glare.

"Really?" Cass tilted his head to the side again, studying the blonde carefully. Dean didn't like all the attention. "For being my kept man, you're quite enthusiastic about your job." Dean jumped on Castiel, covering his mouth.

"So! Charlie, this is Gabe, Cass' brother. Gabe, this is Charlie, the little sister I never wanted." Gabe nodded at her, amused by the whole scene.

"I'm glad you think so fondly of me," Charlie commented dryly, but with a smile.

"Ahem. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Not until I get what I came for; I have a cheerleading squad to prank." Castiel and Gabriel snapped to attention, remembering their job.

"We'll get you that delivery," they said, and quickly left the room.

"Well, Castiel is…dreamy." Charlie crossed her arms and grinned smugly at Dean.

"You are so in love with him," she said abruptly. Dean nearly went into cardiac arrest. Was he that transparent?

"Me? In love with who?" he stammered.

"With 'Cass,' dufus. I saw you making those puppy eyes at him." Dean smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck. Charlie's eyes took on a more genuine, sympathetic look.

"He loves you back. You know that, right?" Dean's head shot up, frowning as he surveyed her. "He's not even gay."

"Neither are you."

"That's different," Dean said without thinking. "He's amazing…I'm just a nuisance. I forced my way into his life and shook it up."

"And he's loving every second of it. Trust me, he wants you."

"Oh yeah? And how can you tell?" Dean asked with defensive cynicism.

"Because I see him look at you the way you do at him," she said matter-of-factly. Dean gaped at her, at a loss for words. Did Cass really have feelings for him? Dean figured he just been imagining the other teen's small signs of affection. And surely Cass had just gone along with his teasing for the fun of it . . . But was there really something more to their friendship? Gabriel broke his concentration.

"Here you go, Miss Bradbury!" he announced, handing her a surprisingly small box, even though it said "451 Items" on the side. "Have fun! And if you manage a couple pictures in their locker room, I'll give you half off the next purchase." Castiel punched his arm.

"Ow!"

"Pervert. That would send you to prison, at your age." Charlie laughed as she took her receipt from Castiel and then politely declined Gabriel's offer. Before leaving, she looked directly at Dean.

"Trust me," she winked.

Then she left the shop, leaving Dean quiet and thoughtful and Castiel looking confused and curious.

* * *

A/N: You caught me. I'm Sherlocked. Now excuse me while I go play "The Thieving Magpie" on repeat with a cup of tea, two sugars, and plot more references (did you catch that one in the last paragraphs?).

It's funny how I had to add 'dufus' to my Word dictionary but Spellcheck automatically added the accent mark to Beyoncé's name.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Sorry again for the delay. I've been a little busy and spent most of my free time working on the blog I'm trying to get started. If you're interested in animation/film/ranting, Google 'The Coltish Commentaries' (but please don't stalk me beyond that).

Shout out to Power of Funk for the awesome review and to potterbuncker for inspiring one of my blog posts.

10/31: Finally edited this chapter because it bugged me. Enjoy.

* * *

Castiel tried his best to look normal as he walked –a little stiffly- into his journalism class. He hadn't wanted to come in to school at all, but he had French and Calc finals and Dean would have noticed his absence. So he bit the inside of his cheek as he gingerly eased into his seat. God, it hurt. Thankfully, this was his last class, and they wouldn't be doing much anyway –they had turned their articles in several days earlier, so they were allowed to just muck about on the computers or work on other assignments. Castiel idly scratched at the bandages that were tightly wrapped around his torso, keeping his body together.

Dick had found him after school yesterday and told him that one of his lackeys had seen Castiel and Dean leaving Gabriel's store together. Fortunately or unfortunately, Chet hadn't been able to procure any evidence of their time spent together . . . so Dick had taken his frustration out on Castiel's ribs. First there were a few punches, and then plenty of punting practice until the jock eventually got bored. Castiel hadn't made a sound during the entire ordeal, partly in refusal to give Dick that satisfaction of seeing him in pain, and partly so they wouldn't attract attention; Castiel didn't want word getting around to Dean. Once Dick left, he had laid on the floor, gasping and sorely bruised, and made a mental note to bring cash to school the next day.

Castiel noticed his journalism teacher beckoning to him. He discreetly put a hand to the sting in his side as he got up from the chair, and quietly made his way over.

"Hello, Mr. Thompson. You wanted to see me?"

His journalism teacher looked up from a composition that sat on his desk along with a number of other files, photographs, and articles.

"Hi Castiel, have a seat. How are you feeling? Physically, I mean. Have the assholes who did that to you been taken care of yet?"

Castiel's eyes widened dramatically. "E-excuse me?"

Mr. Thompson leaned over his desk conspiratorially. "I know what a beating looks like, Castiel. And I am aware of that first fight you had a week or two ago."

Castiel's face paled at the information. Was he being that obvious? There was no way that Mr. Thompson could have heard about yesterday's incident without the news buzzing through all the students, first. He swallowed and collected himself.

"I assure you, it was a one time occurrence," Castiel said, his face schooled to be expressionless. The teacher studied him for a few moments before accepting that he would get no more explanation from his student.

"Alright. But if it happens again, you come to me. Understand?"

"I understand," he said tactfully, but made no promises. Mr. Thompson leaned back and blew out a long stream of air.

"Does Dean know?"

Castiel's heart stopped. Did Mr. Thompson know about his friendship with Dean? They hadn't said more than two words to each other in class for the entire semester.

"Dean…Winchester? Why would Dean Winchester care about what happens to me?"

His teacher smiled softly, seeing through his ruse. Castiel faltered and hung his head as Mr. Thompson continued.

"Dean is a very brave, very caring young man, I'm sure you already know this. Although, not many people do. He certainly does _seem_ like Mr. Popular, jock-stereotype, doesn't he?" Mr. Thompson chuckled, but Castiel just gave him a small frown, not understanding where this was going. The teacher leaned back in his chair, folding his arms and crossing one leg over the other.

"Did Dean ever tell you that he had originally written his final article about you?"

Castiel gaped. Why would Dean choose him, of all people? He wasn't interesting. Everyone knew that. His life was devoted to his studies, his family, and church –no one would ever want to read something so vanilla.

"He didn't, however," Mr. Thompson quickly assured Castiel. "Though I must say, the article was really eye-opening; I learned a lot about him and even more about you. It showed you in a completely new light, and I think that if the school ever had the chance to read it . . ."

The teacher's hand flitted through the air and he sighed at the loss. "Last week, he informed that he couldn't publish something about you without your permission. He then told me that he would instead interview a boy named Garth. The new one's still good; it promotes the same message about how people are not what they seem, and that there are other students who deserve the same treatment as the 'school royalty.'" The teacher rolled his eyes in exasperation with the social hierarchy. "Garth is a great kid, and a well-selected back-up option, but I'm certain that you would have been quite a dark horse."

Castiel had no idea what to say. At first, he wanted to feel angry that he had been used, treated like he had no say in the matter. But then again, Dean _had_ respected his wishes by not submitting his life story, for which he was grateful. In the end, he was incredibly flattered (if a little disbelieving) that he had been Dean's first choice. It felt good to know that Dean held him in such high regard.

He looked up at the sound of voices coming from Dean's direction; even though Castiel was virtually invisible in classes, he was constantly very attuned to anything that revolved around Dean.

As he watched the scene unfold, he felt his heart hang a little heavier in his chest. He turned away.

"Will that be all, Mr. Thompson?"

The teacher's eyes flickered in Dean's direction, then back to Castiel. He shook his head, looking at Castiel sympathetically –and a little solemnly—though why, the boy did not know. He suspected that Mr. Thompson knew more than he let on.

Castiel returned to his seat, but his ears remained perked to Dean's conversation.

"What do you say, Dean?" Castiel could hear the girlish excitement in Lisa's voice. "Do you want to go to the January formal with me?"

"Wow, Lis, it's— Uh, it's really nice of you to ask…" Dean's voice faltered a little, and Cass looked up at the pair. He saw Dean give her a soft smile. The sweet, adoring smile that Castiel had come to understand was specially reserved for Lisa, and Lisa only . . .

Dean sighed. "I'd love to."

Castiel's heart didn't shatter so much as implode, his body slowly collapsing on itself as he lightly exhaled the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Heartbreak, he was quick learning, wasn't the unsteady, earth-stopping force he had assumed it would be. The ground below him didn't shake, and he felt no need to cast himself, sobbing, into a black pit of self-preserving isolation.

No, everything was much subtler. Quieter.

_So this is what tunnel vision is like._

He felt as if he had been thrown into space: suddenly a little cold and very alone. The life around him –the talking of Christmas plans and the laughing and the munching of forbidden snacks— didn't come to a crashing halt, but rather faded into a background silence so that all Castiel could do, was witness the punitive supernova inside of him.

His self-destructive heart was a frantic star, violently lashing at its own death with great bursts of fire. Its desperate churning only provided a starker contrast to the indifferent calm of the deep, crushing void surrounding it. Snuffing it. Pressing further and further in until the pitiful ball of light was no more than a blinking firefly left to fight the great, dark vacuum of space. And yet, as shrunken and wheezing as the organ was, it managed to hold an oppressive weight in his chest.

In a foreign and detached kind of way, it was strangely beautiful. Intimately, it was monstrously human.

And Castiel, the lone spectator, watched as the world went on turning, unaware of his burden.

He didn't weep. He didn't even feel any traitorous tears pooling in his eyes. He merely sat there, staring at the blank screen of his computer.

He was angry.

Angry that he had fallen for someone when he had known all along that it was a foolish thing to do. He was even angrier that that someone had been his best friend. He had stupidly gambled everything, poured all his feelings into one jar and given it away. Castiel _couldn't_ cry because he was empty now; all that he was, had been shelved and left to gather dust.

But he would never be angry with Dean. He had no right, and he _couldn't_ be angry -not with the boy who had changed his life, who had made it feel like _life,_ and not just going through the motions.

So when he next met up with Dean, he put a hand on his friend's shoulder and smiled sincerely.

"I'm happy for you."

And he really was. He was glad that Dean and Lisa were getting together –it was bound to happen eventually. Castiel had been stuck in a dream, and Lisa's proposition had been a rough awakening, but not one he hadn't expected. He had always known that the two would start dating eventually; they were perfect for each other. They were both very attractive, had a good head on their shoulders, and had the sweetest dispositions around those they loved. He knew they would make a great couple.

Castiel even helped Dean look for a suit.

Sometime over the Christmas Break, while they were pawing through sales racks for decent formal wear, Dean begged Cass to attend the dance, as well.

"I want you to be there, Cass! It'll be a lot more fun."

"I don't attend school social events, you now that."

"Come on, Cass. I need you." Dean's pleading was written all over his face, but Castiel just shook his head at the puppy eyes with a fond smile. He did not doubt that Dean genuinely wanted his company on that night, but Castiel couldn't give Dick any more ammo and he just wasn't comfortable with being a third wheel.

"Lisa invited you, Dean. That night is meant for the two of you. I shouldn't be there to spoil it."

"You wouldn't be spoiling it!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. You've gotten me to say 'yes' to a lot of things, but this is one situation in which I will not yield." Castiel could read Dean's surrender in his body language. He stoically turned back to the task.

He still wasn't sad. He wasn't sad at all. Worse—

He was empty.

* * *

A/N: Sadly, the only thing I liked about this chapter was Castiel's heartbreak, because I got to be poetic about it.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: 1) Thank you Jessie and JamOnToasttt for the reviews, I am so flattered! Oh, you darlings, you.

2) Feeling kind of Kiki-when-she-can't-fly, but I'm still trying to make those deliveries even if I have to walk the whole damn way so here's another chapter. Mostly because I just want them to finish the semester already. But hopefully I'll stumble into some Ursula-therapy soon so I can complete the story before school.

3) It's August so I keep forgetting that they're in the Christmas season now; heads up for an awkwardly added snow mention. Btw this chapter takes place on the last day of school leading into Winter Break. The last event in Ch. 19 was kind of projecting ahead of time.

* * *

"Dean!" Garth was making his way toward him in the locker corridor. "Dean! The article is great! I still can't believe you wrote about me." Dean grinned at him bashfully.

"Well, I wanted to interview someone cool, someone the school wouldn't expect because honestly, I'm tired of hearing the same story over and over." Charlie appeared alongside Garth, who was bursting with excitement.

"It was a really good thing you did, Dean." She gave him an appreciative and meaningful smile. "Really. No one ever pays attention to us peons," she winked.

"Your article was definitely my favorite," Garth said smugly with his usual goofy grin. "And that picture of mine wasn't half bad." He struck an imitation of the dramatic black-and-white photo they had used with a puffed chest and brooding expression. Charlie rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"No offense, guys, but I think Castiel's article was the best. He got so personal –almost like he was human," she joked, though she was being half-serious.

The paper had been handed out in the periods after lunch, and since then, Dean had been hearing buzz throughout all his classes about Castiel's article. There were mixed reactions from his classmates; while some sneered at Cass because no writing as ever going to affect their prejudice, other students were impressed by his honesty (if nothing else), and still others enthusiastically applauded his message.

"I haven't read it yet," Dean admitted. He didn't know why, but something about Castiel finally having his say to the school made him a little apprehensive. Charlie and Garth looked at him with their jaws dropped. They thrust in their own copies at him eagerly.

"You have to read it. Read it right now." Dean chuckled as he took the paper and made his excuses to leave; he didn't want people hanging over him when he read it.

With gym training cancelled until after the New Year and Sam meeting up with Kevin and Alfie, Dean had some time to himself, for once. He made his way to the student parking lot, smiling and thanking a few classmates who congratulated him on the way –he noticed that they were mostly students he didn't recognize, or had vaguely seen in the background. When he reached the Impala, he pulled himself up onto the hood and tugged his jacket closer around him, watching the students in their holiday excitement as they met up with friends and skipped through the thin layer of snow on the ground. Eventually he pulled the newspaper out of his pocket and, turning his collar against the cold, began to read.

_Man is a routine, orderly creature, with constructed socials norms and other laws to abide by. That is why Man fears change, and the unfamiliarity of its results. It's a very instinctual reaction for us to have, as it warns us against the unknown and makes us wary of the fact that things may get worse . . . but they can also get better, and that is the risk we have to take in favor of progress._

_ As many of you are aware, I have always lived by my parents' guidance. In fact, I would go so far as to say their "guidance" is more like control than anything. Don't get me wrong; I understand that most parents just want to love and protect their children, but I have recently come to the realization that youth can reach the point of being _too_ sheltered. In their schemes to protect the innocent, parents forget that they are consequently shielding their children from living a full life, from both the good and the bad. There is no one without the other, and if we have neither, then we have nothing but a dull existence. I used to believe that the saying "rules are made to be broken" was a foolish proverb because I am aware that rules are instilled for a reason; without them, we would have chaos and injustice. However, I cannot help thinking that broken rules are not without benefits, either._

_ Let me be bold enough to say that we, at this school, are confined to a hierarchy, in which each person is classified and treated unfairly: the "One Percent" at the top are given all privileges undeservingly, and the bottom fifty-percent are either treated as worthless or invisible, and those in between are vying for the former while fearing the latter. There is no denying that school is not the nurturing environment that we are so often advertised, but an institution of crushed hopes for lost identities. And as much fun as students have blaming the teachers, the truth is that it is the students, of all social statuses, who are at fault. We conform ourselves to the system, even though it does not benefit us, and we accept the labels we are given. The freaks are outsiders despite their individuality and likable quirks, the cheerleaders are objectified in favor of their looks over their personalities, and the jocks are forbidden from taking up genuine academic interests._

_Suddenly, anarchy is starting to look rather seductive._

_This social structure we currently have is limiting on all accounts, and it is time to rebel against this stale tradition, for the sake of the enrichment of our lives. It is time to change –or at least entertain the notion of it. Granted I am rarely involved in the goings-on of our community, but I am aware enough of my surroundings to know that I am not the only one who feels restricted by the opinions of others. However, I believe that we are not so much oppressed by others as we are repressing ourselves. I do not want to dictate how you should live your life; we have all had enough of that. But I do encourage you to figure it out for yourself, and to not let anyone else determine your own value. Not even your parents._

_If you are ready for change, it only takes one person to make a difference. But keep in mind that it will go faster with more. So._

_Shall we begin?_

Dean put down the paper with a small laugh in disbelief; he had officially corrupted the untouchable Castiel Novak.

"Proud of you, Cass."

* * *

A/N: I think Cass referenced BC's John Harrison at the end but it was initially unintentional and now that I've noticed, I'm too lazy to change it.

Btw anyone else a CumberCookie out there? Countdown to Season 3! And Smaug (with an actual speaking part)! Let's all do a happy Benny-answering-the-phone dance.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: I'm back. I took a few days off to hang out with my dad (he lives in a different state so I don't see him much), meaning I spent most of my time at the gun range. C'est la vie of a military brat, preparing for the family business. Anyway, here's a quickly typed up chapter to celebrate move-in day at school. . . I'm not particularly proud of this one, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging.

Muchas gracias a becca65d y potterbuncker, I appreciate the input. I actually had not considered putting in Dean's article on Cass. That would definitely be an interesting challenge for me. Writing as Cass was easy because I believe we are both fairly similar in our methods of communication: honest (sometimes brutally so), conscientious, diplomatic and a little deluding when necessary. Dean is passionate and tends to wear his heart on his sleeve (unless he's feeling vulnerable). I like the idea of Cass reading his article, but I'll admit that if I can't make it work, I won't put in something forced. If it turns out fine, I'll include it. An excerpt certainly isn't too much to ask, but it does have the potential to affect my plot outline. I had planned Cass' article all along because I wanted evidence of how much Dean has changed Cass' way of thinking.

As for Dean and Lisa…Well. Problematic things do happen. Murphy's Law is as bitchy and (unfortunately) natural as a menstrual period.

* * *

On the first day of Winter Break, Dean got a forty-three second phone call from his dad about Christmas, two lectures from Sam, four texts from Cass, and thirty-seven Facebook friend requests.

And a partri-idge in a pear tree.

Actually, it was an ice blue envelope in a bouquet of mistletoe. From Lisa.

The envelope contained the official invite given by the student event coordinators with the when, where, and-how-to-get-there for the January formal, along with a personal note saying that Lisa was looking forward to going. With him. This prompted the texts to Cass, and the following replies.

Dean:_ Lisa sent me mistletoe. kinda freaking out_

Cass:_ How romantic. That was very thoughtful of her._

Dean:_ don't get all cutsie w me. I dont do chk flk moments_

Cass:_ I am very aware of that, Dean. Why are you texting me about it?_

Dean:_ what do I do_

Cass:_ You could send her some roses._

Dean:_ my testosterone is cringing. seriously Cass. what am I, lovesick?_

Cass:_ Aren't you?_

That was when Dean blanched and turned to Sam for help, but ended up getting a lecture. At least this time it wasn't about drinking out of the juice carton, but still. Sam could be such a girl.

"Dean, ask yourself: who would you rather be with? And don't give me that 'I'm not gay' crap. I know you have feelings for him."

A bitch, specifically.

"How could you possibly know that?" Dean asked incredulously. Sam raised an eyebrow in a silent _Please. Give me some credit_.

"I think everyone knows _except_ him. Missouri's surprised you haven't asked him on a date yet."

"MISSOURI KNOWS?"

"Dean, answer the question." Dean groaned.

"I-I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Lisa is sweet and…thoughtful, and she always makes me laugh. She's such a good person, you know? She would be the one to fix me, make me forget all the shitty stuff… And I just, always want to make her happy. Because she deserves the best."

"But…?" Sam looked at him expectantly.

"But Cass is…Well, he's secretive and distant and it irritates the hell out of me. But he's different. He makes me think…makes me feel like it's okay to be who I am, even if I am damaged. Because he doesn't think of me as broken. I'm just me, and I can share that with him. I can share a lot with him, actually."

"You share a lot of giggles, that's for sure," Sam says with an edge of sarcasm. His eyebrows make a tiny movement in a moment of revelation. "And…" he added gently, "I think that should be your answer."

"I don't follow."

"The way I see it, people are always looking for a partner who makes them laugh. And laughing is good –it's happy and fun—but it's kind of a service. Like live entertainment. People want to make others laugh to give them joy –and it's a nice thought, but…But people who…_giggle,_ like you two do about the most random things, I think those people have a stronger bond. Comedy takes effort, but having an inside joke just comes naturally. With Cass, you're never trying to make him smile. You just do. And you're always smiling right along with him, and you guys have no idea how ridiculous you look with those stupid grins on your faces." Sam shook his head as if to clear it, the hair in his face brushing side to side.

"I don't know if the analogy makes any sense, but the point I'm trying to make is," he waved the envelope in front of Dean's face, "do you want a relationship where each person is trying to make the other happy, or do you want a relationship where you share that happiness together?"

Dean didn't know what to think. He felt so uncertain, so lost in the gravity of the situation that he began to feel a little sick.

"I'm…not ready for this," he said weakly.

"You accepted the invitation," Sam pointed out.

"What was I supposed to do?" Dean threw his arms out. "She asked me during class, I couldn't turn her down in front of everybody! Especially since she'd already bought the tickets."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, she'd had them with her. And she wouldn't even let me pay for my portion." How could he turn down the investment she'd made in him? How could he betray her trust, hurt her feelings?

Sam patted his shoulder as he stood up from the kitchen table. "Well, in any case, I'm proud of you for starting a real relationship, for a change. I know Lisa isn't just a one night stand." Dean shook his head.

"No, she's not."

Sam looked at him sympathetically.

"It doesn't have to be forever, you know. Not if you don't want it to be. I mean, it's not like you're getting married or anything, okay? So relax. Just enjoy this while it lasts. And if it doesn't, then maybe Cass is 'the one' after all."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, whatever, bitch."

"Glad we straightened some things out, then. Jerk."

They left it at that, with Sam heading up to his room to read and Dean turning back to his laptop. He idly browsed through the list of friend requests that had popped up in the last twenty-four hours, fascinated by the effect that his article had had on his popularity. Looking through the names, he realized that they were all classmates whom he barely knew; several of the profile pictures matched the faces that had congratulated him the day before. Now that the entire student body had learned that he did, in fact, value human beings other than himself and his so-called "friends," said human beings no longer believed him to be a mindless asshole. Instead of fearing him, they were interested in actually getting to know him. It was a nice change, and if he noticed his 'friend' count to be a few short (having been abandoned by those who apparently did not share the same view), he could not care less.

Without a second thought, he accepted all thirty-seven invites.

By the third day of Winter Break, Dean got twenty-eight more friend requests, a paper cut, five books, and two texts from Lisa. The cut came from the tacky "Happy Elf" wrapping paper he'd gotten at the dollar store. One of the many elves that dotted the blue-sky-with-snow-flurries background had gotten a smear of blood over its pointed boots, and Dean cursed its perpetually smiling face as he sucked the side of his finger clean. With a great deal of caution and suppressed frustration, he managed to cover the entire gift with the ridiculous paper, minutes before Cass rang the doorbell. He presented his work to the boy, who raised an eyebrow at it as he took off his charcoal, wool coat and green scarf.

"That looks…festive."

"I hope you like it. I sacrificed my own flesh and blood to gift it to you." Castiel frowned at the paper.

"Why do some of the elves have Hitler mustaches?"

Okay, so he had to take his frustration out _somewhere_. Dean flashed him a cheery smile.

"Eggnog?"

Castiel smirked. "Please."

They poured themselves each a glass before sitting down to watch the latest in Dean's curriculum of film studies: _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_. The movie began, and they swapped presents. Dean had gotten Castiel _The Dead Poets Society_ DVD, a pair of Scooby-Doo pajama bottoms, and a can of whipped cream.

"The movie was on sale at the store and I figured you might like it. It's kinda nerdy but it's actually really good. And you can't go wrong with Robin Williams." Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as Castiel inspected the back cover.

"It sounds wonderful," the dark-haired boy smiled. "Thank you for thinking of me, Dean." Dean returned a small, bashful smile.

"I hope you like it, he rambled. "It's bit of a downer at some parts, but there's a really great scene at the end and—"

"Dean. If you recommend it, I'm sure I will love it." Dean's heart glowed at that statement.

"Great...Um, those are for the next time we have a movie day," he said, pointing to the other items.

"I look forward to it." Happy butterflies fluttered excitedly in Dean's stomach.

"Merry Christmas, Dean." Castiel handed him two boxy packages wrapped neatly in thick, red paper and tied with golden ribbon. Dean opened them carefully, gingerly pulling at the tape and trying not to rip the expensive, beautiful material. The first was lightweight –a box of candy canes (for his hot chocolate, Cass explained). The other was a collection of five Vonnegut books.

Dean had no words. They were the best gifts he'd ever gotten –Christmas, birthday, or otherwise—from anyone who was not his brother. When it came to his dad, there was never really a 'thought' to count.

He gave Castiel a choking hug, to which Cass responded with a soothing hand rubbing between his shoulder blades. Dean was too emotional to even think about anything suggestive–he just buried his face in the boy's neck, and squeezed gratefully. After a full minute, he pulled away.

"That never happened."

"Tell that to the doctors when they ask why my lungs are bruised."

After placing a similarly wrapped, green present in Sam's room (a book on mythology and a lovely red scarf), the boys returned to their movie downstairs. They were soon interrupted by Lisa.

Lisa: _be my date to Rachel's new year's eve party?_

Dean stared wide-eyed at his phone.

"You have to say 'yes.'"

"Wha—? Hey!" Castiel was peering over his shoulder down at the screen. He looked Dean in the eye.

"You _are_ going, aren't you?"

"I uh, I don't know…"

"Dean. You don't exactly have the highest self-esteem, so I'm sure it's a little difficult to believe that someone wants you for more than one night, but just trust me." Castiel laid a hand on his arm but all he could do was gape. "Lisa's a great girl and you two deserve to be together…I think you'll make a _great_ couple."

And in that moment, Dean knew that Cass was 'the one.'

Because nothing could possibly hurt more than hearing Castiel tell him to go after someone else.

It made Dean feel so unwanted.

Another pip.

Lisa: _bring the mistletoe ;)_

Castiel wiggled his eyebrows in a teasing manner and Dean suddenly felt hollow. Like his heart had grown so heavy that it had fallen into the dark pit of his stomach. Of course. How could he be so stupid? Castiel's feelings for him were purely platonic. He only loved him as a friend; a friend that Cass felt obligated to support and encourage to chase the person that was "right" for him.

Dean gave his…friend, a shaky smile, then typed some response about seeing Lisa at the party before turning back to the movie, though not really paying attention to it. He was too busy deriding himself for believing Charlie, and only emerged from his thoughts when Cass spoke up.

"I've never been to Wrigley Field. Isn't that silly? I've lived near Chicago all my life and I have never once seen a Cubs game."

Dean swallowed his sorrow and forced a lighter tone on himself, though his voice came out a little higher than usual.

"I'll take you, Cass." Castiel turned to him with warmth in his eyes.

"Really?" Dean sucked in his bottom lip and nodded.

"Of course," he murmured. "What are friends for?"


	22. Letter from the Author & Halloween Treat

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER OF _ALL AMERICAN BOY_. I REPEAT, IT IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER. But just hear me out.

I am aware that I have not posted an update in a very, very long time, and I'm really sorry about that. My college tends to give out an almost literally killer workload each week. Seriously. The students here are basically functioning zombies. On top of that: I'm a Division III athlete, I'm trying to apply for a semester abroad, and I absolutely must declare my major by the end of this year. Ha. I haven't even had the time to request a change for a suitable advisor. So yeah, this story has kind of taken a backseat. But the message I want to get across right now is that _I haven't abandoned you_; I absolutely vow to finish this fic (eventually). I'm not going to be one of those authors who drops a fic halfway through and leaves readers to figure it out 20,000 words later, only when they see that it's incomplete and the last update was three years previous. Those people make me cry. I will finish this, but please be patient.

With that said- I also know that the SPN writers have been tearing out your hearts in the last couple weeks. I haven't been watching S9, but I do know what happened in the first couple episodes, and, JFC. Even if I had the time to watch them, I wouldn't, because they make me feel so emotionally unstable. Also, some of the show's decisions just really piss me off -but I'm not going to talk about their exploitation of Castiel and Misha Collins. I'm here for something happy.

As an apology for my inconsistent updates, and to remedy Season Divine tears, I am offering here two chapters of a completely different fic. I actually started writing this way back in early June, but the plot became so big and complicated for me as a first-time story writer (I do poetry and essays), I had to take a break, and decided to write _All American Boy_ instead. Aside from the following excerpts you are about to see, this other story has never been published (it doesn't even have an official title), and I probably won't post it or even get back to working on it until I complete _AAB_. I chose these scenes because, other than setting and characters, they don't reveal anything about the actual story -so you can read them as humorous, plotless scenes.

What You Need To Know: This story is completely separate from _AAB_, so rewire your brain right now. It is a crossover of _Supernatural_ and _The Avengers_, focusing on friendships formed between Castiel, Dean, Steve (Captain America) and Tony (Iron Man); it is also a Human/College Fic -there are no angels, hunters, serum, or Nick Fury (there is no Avengers Initiative).

True to Marvel history, Tony, at 21, is already done with college. Obadiah Stain is currently in charge of Stark Industries and though Tony continues to design new technology for the company, he's sort of lying low and sharing an apartment with Steve for the time being. Steve is a non-traditional student at a nameless university in the Los Angeles Area; he is 22 and just now pursuing an art major after 3 years of military service (this does not follow the Marvel timeline at all). Dean is a regular, engineering student at the same uni; he models for Steve's art class to earn some extra cash, which is how he meets Steve and Tony. Castiel has known Steve and Tony for a few months; at 25 he has already graduated from college, and lives in the apartment next to Steve and Tony's. He and Steve became friends when he moved in during the summer, and they watch Doctor Who together on weeknights. Dean and Sam live off-campus and away from the other three. Dean and Castiel will meet for the first time, below.

Again, sorry about the weird circumstances. I hope you enjoy these two random scenes, and I will keep them up until I find some time to truly update _AAB_. Oh, and Happy Halloween! ;)

-M

P.S. I finally edited Ch. 19. Does anyone want to go back and read it again and tell me if it's over the top? Look about 2/3 of the way down, I think you'll understand what I'm talking about.

* * *

Over the next week or two, Tony, Steve, and Dean settled into a sort of routine. Steve would draw Dean (and try to convince Tony, without much success, that he did not fancy their new friend), and then Tony would pick them up and go to dinner or drop Steve off at home while he and Dean went to work on cars or watch television with Dean's younger brother, Sam.

Dean enjoyed spending time with his new friends, but he also wanted to hang out with his brother as much as possible, before Sam went off to college the following year. They had high hopes that he would go to Stanford, so Dean did all he could to put away money for tuitions, books, and other things. They were grateful to their surrogate father Bobby Singer, who had given Dean a job at Singer's Auto Repair when they moved out to California after their father had abandoned them four years ago. Dean knew that he wouldn't have been able to put both himself and Sam through college without Bobby's help.

In the studio after class one evening, Dean made small talk with Steve as he got dressed. Steve was nice, but a little shy. Dean was always at a lost whenever Sam asked him how Steve and Tony could possibly be such good friends in spite of their obvious differences. He only knew that it was something about Steve being one of Tony's only real friends when Tony's dad had died last year. Although Dean would never understand Steve as well as Tony did, he admired him (platonically, of course). Steve was handsome and sweet, yet modest, as well as responsible and loyal to a fault. Dean could relate with Steve's sense of duty and devotion.

It was an October night in Los Angeles, so the city was cooling off but not so much so that they couldn't enjoy the brisk air. They waited on the curb outside the art building until Tony zoomed up in his convertible.

"Get in, losers, we're going shopping."

When Dean had mentioned to Tony the other day that his and Steve's university was having an open-air concert and costume party for Halloween, Tony had insisted that they all dress up like superheroes. And not just in those cheap, polyester outfits with fake muscles, but actually make their costumes from scratch with real boots and form fitting spandex and all. Dean had vehemently tried to tell Tony no, but he wouldn't have any of it. Steve had given up from the start and went along with Tony's schemes.

_"Don't be a Sour Patch Kid, Dean! Chicks dig superheroes! Besides, you're actually pretty well built so why not show off with a little spandex? I promise it'll get you laid."_

_Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I'm Batman."_

_"I thought we had agreed on the Avengers."_

_"You do whatever you want, but I'm D.C. all the way or I'm out."_

_"Traitor."_

_So here they were, at the mall on a Thursday night. They were standing in a Joanne's Fabric store, with Dean comparing prices on material in the very back of the store so as not to be recognized by any passersby. Tony was following Steve through the racks, whining about how Steve would make a perfect Captain America._

"Tony, can't I wear something a little less…clingy? I'm just not comfortable with it."

"Oh come on! I'm telling you, you're perfect for the part! Besides, you've got that perky little ass that would look _great_ with—"

"Why are you looking at my ass?" Steve said with a blush, and naively furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. Tony coughed. "I didn't mean—it's not—You know what? You're Captain America and that's final. I'm gonna go next door and get some paint for your shield. Text me when Dean's got his cape."

Steve sighed and continued drifting through the racks until he spied a familiar shock of black hair.

"Hi, Castiel." The man looked up at him, a little startled. "Oh, hello, Steve. What a pleasant surprise." Steve returned his smile.

"What are you doing here?"

Castiel looked mournfully down at the beige trench coat he was wearing. "I seem to have lost a button and need a replacement. I'm afraid I'm not having much luck finding a suitable match."

"Let me help."

The two men turned to the shelves filled with drawers of buttons of all different colors, sizes and shapes.

At the back of the store, Dean finished paying for the black, slippery material that would be his cape, as well as a ready-made Spiderman outfit for Sam. They had both been on clearance so Dean was fairly content with his purchase. Searching the store for his friends, he spotted the blonde and brunette facing away from him at the front. Dean made his way over to the button aisle and, immediately finding Tony bent over to peer at the lower shelves, offhandedly smacked his friend on the butt, hard.

"Whatcha guys looking at?"

_Dammit shit fuck fuckery blazing balls._ The man that whirled around was definitely _not_ Tony. Dean stopped in his tracks when he came face to face with a man with wide, brilliant blue eyes, untamable hair, and pink lips. Dean gaped at the stranger and realized (belatedly, damn him) that he wasn't even dressed like Tony, but in a smart, dark-colored suit and white dress shirt with a royal blue tie and an oversized trench coat. The man's face alone was disarmingly beautiful, and Dean found himself wondering if the rest of him looked just as amazing. He swallowed loudly.

"Holy shit. I had, I had no ide—I thought you were— Fuck, this is embarrassing." The man simply stared at him, his face a little curious but otherwise expressionless, and Dean shuffled his feet under the man's steady gaze. Steve tried to hide the grin forming on his lips and came to Dean's rescue.

"Dean, this is Castiel Novak. He's my neighbor and happened to be in the store at the same time. Castiel, this is Dean Winchester, a friend from university."

"Hi." Dean muttered to the ground.

"Hello, Dean." Dean glanced up at the low, gruff voice that sent a small shiver down his spine. Castiel's stare was unwavering. Dean defensively slipped into his over-confident self, crossing his arms over his chest and jutted his jaw at the other man's apparel.

"S-so what's with the John Constantine g-getup? Are you celebrating Halloween early or–or something?" Dean stuttered.

Smooth, Dean. Smooth.

"He always looks like that. What's up, Castiel?" Tony strolled into the store, heavily laden down with red and blue paint. Castiel nodded his greeting to Tony. "I'm missing a button from my coat, so I stopped by after work."

"Oh, and what—where do you work?" Dean's tongue felt abnormally thick.

"I'm in law enforcement. I'm training to be a detective."

"What, like Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yeah, he's a regular Benadryl Cucumberpatch," Tony threw in, thoroughly enjoying Dean's awkwardness.

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't understand that reference."

"I do!" Steve exclaimed and smiled at Tony proudly. "I understood that reference."

Tony rolled his eyes and promised himself to have JARVIS change the password on Steve's tumblr later.

He then looked back over at Dean, whose eyes were undressing Castiel. He smirked as an idea came to him and clapped Castiel on the back. "You should come with us to the Halloween party next weekend. We're dressing up as superheroes. Y' know? You could probably go as Superman. Haven't I seen you wear a pair of Clark Kents? You could just wear your normal suit and tie get up but with your shirt ripped open—" Dean gave a miniscule squeak, "and a big red S underneath."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, I do wear glasses, but I'm not one for parties. Thank you anyway for the invitation."

Dean smiled a little nervously. "Come on, Cas. Let's show them that the DC guys are and always will be the classic heroes." Castiel looked at him with wide eyes again, and his mouth slightly parted.

"You… called me 'Cas'."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, man. If you don't like it I won't call you that—"

"No!" Castiel interrupted, surprising them both. "I like it. No one's ever called me that before." They shared a smile as Tony coughed loudly, bringing them back to reality.

"So! Looks like that's settled, then. Let's go, Dean, we've still got lots to do."

"See you later." Castiel looked directly at Dean who gave him a lopsided grin.

"Yeah. Bye, Cas."

Tony nearly dragged Dean out as Steve followed with a wave to his neighbor, and once the men were around the corner, Tony turned on Dean.

"You were _so_ man-crushing just now."

Dean spluttered. "What? Me? No way!"

"Oh Dean, you've totes got the hots for our Boy Next Door! Don't deny it."

"But I'm not gay!"

"You're not completely straight, either," Tony pointed out. Dean's eyes flit down to his feet, petrified.

Tony shrugged. "Most people have homosexual tendencies, they just don't realize it or won't accept it."

Dean looked up shyly, rubbing the back of his neck again as if to erase his internal conflict. "Was it that obvious?"

Steve nodded furiously.

Dean buried his quickly reddening face in his hands and groaned.

* * *

[Steve and Tony give Dean a lecture and say "Go for it." Dean's like, "Okay," but is still super awkward about it. Cas texts Steve later saying something like, "Hot guy alert!" and Steve's all smug 'cause he knows and Dean doesn't, yet. But Dean and Cas are both excited to see each other at the party. 3]


	23. Halloween Treat - Part 2

A/N: The night of the party. Big Bang Theory, anyone?

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock. "Tony!"

Knock. Knock. Knock. "Tony!"

Knock. Knock. Knock. "Tony!"

Tony squinted accusingly when he opened the door. "You are such a closet geek, don't deny it!" Dean made a face at his comment. "Anyway, come in. Hey, Sam! And… Company."

Dean and three lanky teenagers walked into the thankfully spacious apartment. "I hope you don't mind that Sam's friends wanted to come along. This is Kevin," he gestured to a small Asian kid, "and that's Garth," he pointed to a taller, but very skinny kid with a big, goofy smile. Sam sheepishly looked up at Tony through his bangs. They were about the same height at 5'9" but Tony figured the boy would be as tall as Dean by the end of the school year. Tony waved him off, putting the younger brother at ease. "The more the merrier. But no alcohol for you three, just so we're clear. You're all too young." There was a scoff from the door.

"Like that ever stopped you."

"Rhodey!" Tony's oldest friend stepped fully into the room and was pulled into one of those weird handshake/hug deals that men always do to protect their masculinity. (Let's call it a shug. Shag?) "Glad you could make it." James Rhodes was then introduced to the youngest members of the group, having already met Dean a couple times before.

Tony frowned. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"I just got off work. I didn't really have time to change." Rhodey then gestured to the bag slung over his shoulder. "I'm _going_ to be Frozone."

Tony snorted and Rhodey shot him a look.

"Pickings are slim when it comes to Black superheroes."

"And Asian," sighed Kevin.

"Who are you again?" Dean asked. "Jimmy Choo?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Jimmy Woo."

"Yeah, whatever. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."

"Oh, so not the shoe designer?"

Garth flailed his arms. "Guys! I'm Green Hornet, duh! So obviously he's Kato." There was a collective "Oh" and an awkward silence pursued until Steve emerged a few seconds later and was introduced to Garth and Kevin, who started to bounce up and down.

"You really do look like Captain America!" Garth flailed his arms. "This is so awesome! And even the padding in the biceps look like real muscles!"

Steve blushed. "I'm not wearing any padding."

Kevin squeaked with laughter when Garth's eyes bugged out to the size of saucers. Eager to change the subject, Steve then asked Rhodey about his progress with training as a fighter pilot. Both having military affiliations, they immediately settled into a pleasant conversation. They were not left in peace, however, as the younger boys stood close and listened intently, poking them with questions like the five-year-olds that they were. It was a while before Rhodey was allowed to leave to the bathroom to change, and only after Dean reminded them that they wouldn't be able to leave for the party until he did. Except—

"Tony," the man sighed. "Where is my super-suit?"

"Oh my god," Tony said through tears. "It sounds so much better than I could ever imagine." Soon Rhodey was chasing Tony through the rooms trying to snatch his costume out of the engineer's hands. Tony just cackled the whole way.

"What's the matter, Pixar? All outta ice?"

"Yeah, whatever! Now get your ass back here so I can ghetto lamp-stomp you."

The younger boys all cheered them on and Steve berated Tony for his childish behavior. Only Dean noticed the quiet knock at the door.

Still chuckling, he answered it. He nearly forgot to take a breath, because, _Damn, Cas looks kind of hot in glasses. Like a sexy librarian. He'd sure like to stamp his books—_

"I hope I'm not late."

Dean snapped himself out of his trance, absented-mindedly rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumb in case of drool. "No, it's fine. You look good as Superman. Well, I mean, you look good as yourself, too –not that I'm trying to, you know—but anyway, you did a good job with the costume and all."

Castiel gave Dean a small smile and held up a plastic shopping bag.

"Candy?" Dean raised his eyebrows and looked inside.

It wasn't just the assorted, individually wrapped mini-versions of popular chocolates that are usually passed out on Halloween. No, Cas had gone all out and bought actual this-will-take-two-months-to-finish-without-vomiti ng candy. There was even a giant, colorful lollipop from the Disney store at the mall. Dean looked at the selection and had to refrain from kissing Castiel right then and there. Instead, he settled for a "You're awesome." and picked out a Twix that was nearly the size of his forearm.

Castiel scanned the rest of the room and furrowed his brow. "Are we attending a party or Comic Con?"

Garth crossed his arms and gave the man a smug grin, despite being strangers. Because Garth was just like that.

"Man, we don't _go_ to no party. We _are_ the party!" He peeked in the bag that Castiel still held open. "Ooh! Dibs on the jawbreaker!"

Tony was next, snatching up a single, massive, red gummy bear and declaring "MINE."

Castiel stared at him. "You look like Iron Man."

"I am Iron Man," Tony deadpanned. He had even grown out and carefully shaped facial hair for the part. "Minus the weaponry, it's not exactly legal."

Steve tried to usher everyone out. "Okay, now that we're all here, let's get going. We'll take two cars. By the way, Tony, you didn't put my motorcycle back together properly. It doesn't work." Tony waved him off. "Sure it does. I upgraded it so I'll just have to teach you to use the new features." Dean clapped him on the back. "You're gonna love it, Cap. We'll take it out for a test drive tomorrow."

They fit into Tony's and Castiel's cars. Steve and Castiel were the designated drivers for later that night, since they didn't care to drink much, and both men had naturally high alcohol immunities anyway. But for now, Tony was driving with Dean in front and Rhodey and Garth in the back. Castiel and Steve were in Castiel's navy blue sedan with Sam and Kevin.

As soon as Tony started the car, AC/DC was blaring from the stereo. Garth yelled above the music (and Dean's singing), "Don't you have anything from this century?"

"Hey," Tony turned in his seat, "driver picks the music…"

"… And cargo shuts his cakehole," Dean finished. Garth pulled a face and looked over as Castiel's car pulled out of the adjacent space, with Sam sticking his tongue out at him through the window.

* * *

A/N: No. No one hooks up at the party. It's not my style. Dean and Castiel get to learn more about each other, and they and Steve grow closer as friends in a shared experience. The three also kind of have to babysit the younger boys, as well as Tony and Rhodey, who get drunk. But that's it. So don't feel like you're missing out.

I hope y'all got some laughs out of this! And I hope you don't feel like these scenes were too much of a tease because really, I left out _all_ of the underlying plot. These scenes only served to help set up the characters, and the four's friendship, with a bit of Dean/Cas "something more" on the side.

However, for those who don't know, I also wrote a Destiel one-shot a while back, if you need something a little more complete to tide you over until the next _AAB_ update. It's called _Love In An Elevator_, so check it out!

Stay safe and eat lots of candy for me this Halloween!

-M


End file.
